Rogue Shadow
by Tessa Saddie Bridger
Summary: The child; a runaway; an escaped experiment; an enigma. Taken by a man prepared to do the unforgivable. With hidden memories and a complicated past, she stands alone. Injured, abandon and on the run; no one to trust and nowhere to go. A stolen childhood, fragmented memories, a broken soul, and a shattered heart. She'll walk through hell if that's what it takes to get back home.
1. Rogue Shadow

"You can take my Childhood, Memories and keep 'em. I'd give 'em up for just a little bit of freedom."

The child; a runaway; an escaped experiment; an enigma. Taken by a man prepared to do the unforgivable. With hidden memories and a complicated past, she stands alone. Injured, abandon and on the run; no one to trust and nowhere to go. A stolen childhood, fragmented memories, a broken soul, and a shattered heart. She'll walk through hell if that's what it takes to get back home. And Gods save anyone who dares stand in her way.

* * *

Waking up with no memory, Alexios Okeaniya Spero Volkov, only know as Natasha, is on the run from a Russian terrorist organisation without even knowing it. Everyone around her seems to die and there seems to be nothing she can do to stop it. Until she is carted off one night after serious injuries. An Australian Spy, assigned to protect her, has taken matters into his own hands by hiding the child away. Over the months Slade Wilson trains young Tasha, unaware of her past, to be able to protect herself against the outside world. Under the alias of Sage Wilson, the young Russian joins the ASIS agent on several missions, leading to the uncovering of her past. Throughout the story, memories resurface in the form of flashbacks, a parallel story of the past and the present coinciding. The flashbacks are an in-detailed storyline of Alexios' past with her younger sister on the streets of Russia and their escape and new life in America. While desperate to find her old family, Alexei comes to realise that family isn't always blood, but the people around us who truly care about us.


	2. Prologue - In The Beginning

**In the Beginning:**

**01:13 Saturday, 7th October 2017**

Walking down the dimly light hallways, the man forced himself to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

_Show no fear._

Ensuring his face showed nothing of his fears or apprehensions, he pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the oppressive office.

A tall man sat at the desk in the centre of the office – the only piece of furniture in the room. His hair was immaculate, pulled back and tied up at the base of his head. He wore a dark suit over a long, white, button-up shirt. He could have sworn he saw a drop of blood on his boss's sleeve, but perhaps it was his imagination.

He cursed himself for allowing his mind to wander and forced his focus back onto the desk in front of him. Papers lay in neat piles side by side, and a row of black folders lined the side.

"Report," his boss demanded, not glancing up from his work.

"She escaped, sir."

"What?" he said, his voice dangerously low.

"The Ryan family were successfully eliminated, but Experiment 13-X wasn't there. Our information was dated. Our agents spotted her leaving the scene with a government agent and followed her. He and the car were destroyed but there was no trace of the Experiment. None of our men made it back alive."

"What happened to them?" he demanded.

"We don't know, sir. 13-X was our best; it appears she took them out and vanished. We have no leads."

_"Find her!" _

"Sir, we have two units searching-"

"Send another. Send them all if you must. Don't let this trail run cold!"

"Yes Sir." He knew the drill by now. Don't speak out of turn, don't stuff up, don't irritate the boss and you won't get killed.

"How did she escape? How does she keep _evading_ us? Two years! Nearly two years she has somehow remained hidden from us. Someone must be aiding her. She cannot be doing this alone. Someone outside of the government… somebody unaccounted for…"

"Forgive me sir, but there is no evidence of any involvement. ASIS was moving her from home to home under the false ID of Natasha Turner. Perhaps they have just done the same again?" He was careful to voice his opinion, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his boss's wrath.

"No… she is too well trained. She was an assassin before we took reclaimed her. She knows how to hide. She knows how to kill. She is dangerous."

"Sir, my units are hunting for her, do they have permission to shoot on sight?"

_"No!" _

His boss shot up, chair scraping against the metal floor in protest as it fell back, hitting the flood with a clang.

"Sir?"

"Experiment 13-X is far to valuable to kill. We have invested too much time and money in her to destroy. Bring her to me – I want her _alive_!"

"Yes sir."

He turned around, leaving the office in a hurry. He would not remain in that man's presence any longer than absolutely necessary. There was something off about him. Even as his boss began to shout accompanied by the rustling sounds of paper flying and folders clattering to the ground, he did not turn around.

_"Find her! She cannot evade us forever. I want her found!" _


	3. Chapter 1 - The Shadow

**Chapter 1 – The Shadow**

**02:00 am Thursday, 7****th**** September 2017. **

In the quiet of the night, the stars and moon shone down from the heavens, illuminating vacant streets. A gentle breeze that smelled of spring and an oncoming storm whirled past. Through a sole window, the moon cast a silvery glow over a young girl. Her face pale, and shrouded in shadows, sea green eyes scanned the horizon.

The pair of eyes belonged to a child; full of wanderlust she sat on her windowsill, legs swinging and hair blowing in the mild wind. Wide awake and trembling with fear, the child named every star she could see.

Memories of hell fresh in her mind, there would be no more sleep for her tonight. The darkness; the fear; the pain. It was all too much. Perhaps no memories were better than this.

'Why me?' The one question that constantly flew around her mind. Why was she taken; tortured? Why did the Australian Secret Intelligence Service rescue her – why had they been looking for her?

Nat remembered the day so clearly – it was the only thing that she could remember – men shouting, guns blazing, there was so much noise. When she was safely back with ASIS, a woman explained to her how she had been abducted by a terrorist organisation. She was told that her name was Natasha Turner, (as she had only remembered the name Natasha, and nothing else) that her parents worked for the government, which was why she was taken, they guessed, for information. And when she was taken, her family fell off the grid, not even a whisper of who they were or where they went. But strangely, Nat had no recollection of her former family; she couldn't even begin to picture what they looked like. Being an amnesiac sucked. It made for some awkward conversations. 'Where are you from? I don't know. Didn't you ask your parents? I don't remember my parents.' Yeah – no. no, thank you.

ASIS was not allowed to tell Nat about her captors, as a matter of top secret information. Meaning that the only way Nat was ever going to find out what happened to her, is if she went digging herself. Apparently, hacking into ASIS was supposed to be almost impossible. But the computer ASIS provided Nat with for Homeschool was connected with the mainframe, meaning that she could just trace their signal and hack into their mainframe from there, simple really. The terrorist organisation that took her, HYDRA, had a long record of abducting boys and girls between the ages of eight and fifteen, with only a small percentage of survival. Unfortunately, the information on what HYDRA does to their victims is kept on paper record only.

Just because Nat had almost no memories of what happened to her, didn't mean she couldn't speculate. Nat had a pretty vivid imagination. The added brands, tattoos and scars littering her body didn't help either. Nat only managed to hold onto a few things from her past; she had an ocean blue ring and a worn metal charm all on a long chain, as well as a light blue anklet with a small silver dolphin dangling a few millimetres down. No memories. Not photos. Just two pieces of jewellery. Her mind was like a blank canvas: mouldable and vulnerable.

The silhouette of a colony of bats glided across the ground. An audible sigh of deep longing could be heard. If only she could fly. Then she'd be free to fly far away from here. Clearing her head of useless fantasies, Nat breathed in the cool, damp air – rain was coming.

Nothing in Natasha's life was constant. Always moving, always changing. Nat had no stability in her life, she was moved from foster home to foster home every few months. Nothing was permanent. Well, almost nothing. There was one thing. A Shadow.


	4. Chapter 2 - Forever Is A Lie

**Chapter 2 – Forever is a Lie**

**06:37 am Thursday, 7th September 2017**

Standing on the window sill, Nat climbed up and onto the roof to get a better view of the sky. The tedious task of putting a name to every visible constellation seemingly better than revisiting her nightmare. Bits and pieces from her past that she could never quite grab onto. Images and feelings, words were spoken to her from unseen people. Murderous deeds are done by figures in the dark – never coming into the light. It seemed like Hell on Earth.

But dark figures were nothing new to Nat, for she, Natasha Turner, had a shadow. A shadow not of her own. A follower. Never able to lay eyes on him, he came on the wind. He was the shadow. Who he was she didn't know. But in many ways, Nat didn't mind him always being there. Because he was always there, watching. Just watching. Always there, always watching over her.

Seventeen months after being rescued, her nightmares became more frequent, more vivid, more realistic. The Shadow always seemed to be there. Outside her window, in her room, on top of the roof. Following her, trailing her. Always present, always there. Her protector, her Shadow.

The fuzzy glimmer of light on the horizon quickly turning into a glorious sunrise, Natasha stayed where she was. If only life could always be this simple. So small was she in comparison to the infinite size of space, in this universe, and the next.

A baby's cries woke the household. Excited talking from the lack of school, AFL Grand Final Friday was here. Scurrying back into her current residence, Nat changed into denim shorts, a Richmond Tigers polo shirt and an Adelaide Crows hoddie. Fifty bucks the Tigers win.

"Morning Nat," greeted her foster father, David. "Laura's got breakfast on," he said on his way to Cian's room. Cian, a two-year-old boy with curly blond hair who was absolutely adorable, was the youngest child in the Ryan family.

"Do you want me to check if the twins are up?" asked Nat, knowing how chaotic mornings could be. Helping out with the morning routine became a common occurrence with Nat. Homeschool seemed to give her a lot of free time.

"Yeah, thanks kiddo."

Walking down the hall to the door that declared 'Giselle & Jacen' Nat opened it and entered. Prepared for the battle that would surely follow to get the younger kids out of bed, Nat was not ready for the Lightsaber battle she walked in on. The two six-year-olds may have had a small obsession with Star Wars. And the only thing small about their obsession being their height.

"Ahsoka! It's Lord Chaos – attack!" Jacen screamed to his sister, halting their fight.

"Right behind you master," Giselle said with a smirk on her face as she charged at Nat.

Nat waited until Giselle was close enough before side flipping out of the way. Reaching forward, Nat picked Giselle up and held her as a shield from her brother.

"Gotcha!"

"No! The ruler of the universe has taken my padawan – I will avenge you!" he said between fits of giggles.

"Nope, not today Jacen," said Nat, plucking the toy Lightsaber out of his small hands. "Time for breakfast, twins.

Coming downstairs, Nat and the twins joined Brookelyn – their nine-year-old sister – and Cian at the dining room.

"Stay here and don't blow anything up."

"'Don't blow anything up' what?" asked Brooke with a smirk.

"Without me," she said as if stating the obvious. "I'm gonna go help," said Nat, walking into the kitchen. "Laura, anything I can do?"

Laura turned around and surveyed the benches, "grab the pancakes, will you?"

"Sure." Nat grabbed the plates and made her way back to the dining room. The rich aroma of blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes filling the house.

_"-leave? I don't understand."_ David's muffled voice came from the study. Creeping closes to hear, Nat pressed her ear against the door. _"Everything's fine; she's great..."_ Another pause, _"well, where will she go?"_ Silence. _"But that's not fair – yes, I understand… okay."_

Pulling back sharply, she blinked away tears. No. Not again. It was happening again. Why did it have to happen again? It wasn't fair.

Steeling herself, Nat took in a few shaky breaths, plastered a smile on her face and raced (carefully, she was still holding two plates of pancakes after all) into the dining room. Sitting down with her temporary family, Nat went about her day; smiling, laughing, cheering on the footy. And no one saw the hidden pain that laced her face, nor the fact that Natasha's smile never reached her eyes.

With still over an hour left on sunlight, Natasha sat atop the tallest branch of the resident Mango tree, watching the sunset over suburban Kooragang Island. Eating a whole mango off the tree from boredom, it really was a wonderful place to just sit and contemplate life. When a mother bird returns to her three baby Robins, Nat pondered what it would be like to have a home like that. Somewhere you can return to; somewhere to call your own.

"Nat?" called Laura, scanning the tree for her foster daughter of three months. "Hun, are you up there?"

"Yeah, I'm coming down." Now, scaling down this massive tree, there is a slow and painful way – climbing down, or the fun way. Taking the faster of the two, Nat grabbed onto the rope and swung down. See, Natasha had been in the tree so many times that she attached a couple ropes to the tree to make the climb easier and the escape route faster.

"I'm leaving. Aren't I?" asked Nat, looking down. One glance at Laura's face and her fears were confirmed. "Look, I get it. All good things have to come to an end, right? End of the line…"

"Natasha, it's not like that," started Laura, the hurt evident in her voice. She didn't want to have to be the one to tell her this.

"Don't sugar-coat it, Laura – please. I'm used to it by now anyway," she mumbled bitterly. "I should have expected it – three months in the same place? That's got to be a record."

"Nat, we love having you here, but-"

"You're all liars!" she cried out, tears threatening to break free.

"Natasha, we don't want you to leave, you need to understand that. We don't have a choice-" But her claim fell on deaf ears. The half-eaten mango lay forgotten at the base of the tree. Laura sighed in exhaustion. Why was the poor girl's life so hard?

"Mummy? Is Natty okay?" The innocent question came from Giselle, her six-year-old daughter who absolutely adored Natasha. She had accepted Nat as her big sister from day one. This was going to be so hard on the kids… all of them, Nat included. Natasha was the light that brought their family together. With her gone, things would never be the same.

"Yeah Zellie, Natty gonna be okay. But she has to go away for a little while…"

"Hey Lyn," greeted Nat, sounding moded, as Brookelyn walked in, holding Cian on her waist.

"Giselle came into my room sobbing… she said you were leaving?" it came out more like a question than a statement. Natasha turned away from her bag to look at Brooke. "You're already packing?" Brooke asked, shocked. "Will you come back?"

Nat let out a sigh before answering, "I don't think so, Lyn. This is it for me. Time to move on."

"But," sorrow so deep, her words could barely form, "I want you to stay." Cian started crying as soon as he couldn't see Nat's face. Whispering words of comfort to the toddler, Nat took the boy out of Brooke's arms. As soon as his tiny arms wrapped around her neck, the wailing stopped, replaced by soft sniffling.

"Looks like Cian doesn't want you to go either," said Brooke with a chuckle. "At least lemme help ya pack."

"I don't really think I've got a choice." Nat put Cian down on the carpeted floor, grabbing her magnet ball (a fourteen-piece magnetic/Rubik's cube/Lego puzzle/ball thing) she placed it in Cian's hands.

This was always the hard part. Going through all your possessions, figuring out what to keep, and what to throw away. The girls listened to music while they packed everything Nat needed into her bags. Only talking when necessary, Brooke didn't go on about how unfair it was, or how she wished her big sister could stay. However hard it was for her to accept her sister moving away, she knew it would be ten times worse for Natasha.

Even though she'd never say it, Nat was grateful for the comforting presence beside her as she packed her life up for the thirteenth time in seventeen months. It was encouraging to know she would be missed. At least this had been real; the friendship, the fun times. All those happy memories for Nat to treasure. Natasha's computer, books, and sketchpads all went into a bag, with toys, unnecessary clothing and items were left behind.

"Hey Giselle, Jacen," Nat greeted with a sad smile. She was going to miss these guys.

"Why are you leaving?" asked one.

"Don't you love us?" asked the other.

"Of course, I do. Guys, I don't want to go, but I have to," clarified Nat, sitting down on her bed.

"Why?" whined Giselle.

"Come here," she said, gesturing for her four foster siblings to join her on the bed. With Cian in her lap and the others either lying on or hugging her, Nat explained her situation in terms that they would understand. It had been a long journey, and it would be longer still. Her family was out there, somewhere. Waiting for her to come back home. And she had to find them.

"Nothing lasts forever. Forever is a lie. All we have is what's between hello and goodbye." Holding Jacen's hand, Nat swallowed hard, this was so much tougher than any time previously. Why did she have to care so much about these kids?

"It's not over yet. We still have tonight, as well as tomorrow morning." Natasha looked deep into every pair of eyes; chocolate brown, hazel, golden brown, and eyes so brown they were almost black, soul-searching orbs. These children had been her life. They helped her fit in and remember who she really was. And now it was time to say goodbye.

"All of you, listen to me because this is so very important. Life is short. There is no time to leave important words unsaid. Brooke, love is rare, grab it. Jacen, anger is bad, dump it. Giselle, fear is awful, face it. Little Cian, one day, you will learn that memories are sweet, cherish them. Life is short, live it. Please understand, that everything has to come to an end. otherwise, nothing would ever get started," Nat finished with a sad smile on her face. A friend had told her that once. Who, when or why she couldn't say. But his words of wisdom had never left her.

Glistening tears rolled down Giselle's face, her twin's obsidian eyes glistening. With tender hands, Natasha wiped the cascade of tears away.

"Be brave for me, promise me; never run when you're scared." Small simultaneous nods from her younger foster siblings gave Nat the strength to continue. "You know what someone said to me, a long time ago?"

"What?" Giselle's eyes were full of so many emotions, most of them flooding her delicate face, now red from crying.

"He said, 'Run like Hell because you'll always need to. Laugh at everything, because it's always funny. Always try to be nice and never fail to be kind. Never be cruel and never be cowardly, and if you are, always make amends. Never give up and never give in. Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind. Can you be like that, do you think? For me?"

There were a few gentle knocks on the open wooden door before David walked in. By the window seat, sat Nat, her knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her tightly.

David said nothing as he walked over and sat down next to the girl. When Nat didn't acknowledge his presence, David sighed in understanding and looked around the bare room. The amazing drawings that once covered the walls were gone, leaving a plain and decollate feeling in the room. A large grey and blue back-pack sat by the door, leaning against a packed duffle bag.

"I heard what you said to the kids…" started off David, sounding slightly awkward and uncomfortable; his posture uncertain, stiff, and ridged. "I understand how hard this is for you… and I appreciate how you explained it to them," he said, referring to his biological children. Nat nodded, not taking her eyes off the backyard. "They wouldn't have taken it half as well if we had told them."

When Natasha didn't answer, David continued, "I want you to know that we tried to get them to let you stay with us. Laura and I care about you Natasha, as do Brooke, Jacen, Giselle and Cian. We'll miss you Natty, you really brought this family together."

"Thanks," her voice was low and robotic, void of any emotions. Her way of dealing with pain was to bury her emotions. A bad habit and not exactly healthy, but it was how she kept herself going. Making herself numb to pain meant that she didn't have to deal with painful and unwanted emotions of care and attachment. They were a distraction. Unnecessary. A liability. A luxury not compatible with nor necessary for survival.

If she shut herself out, then she wouldn't have to face the pain later. That was why Nat was generally detached, disinterested, and disrespectful. Cause if she stopped herself from caring, from forming attachments, then she wouldn't be hurt later when she was taken away.

But Brooke had come to her; spoken to her; convinced her to lower her walls. She had allowed herself to care. The repercussions for such actions: feeling as if her heart was being ripped out over and over and over again.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Those words pained him because they would be the last time those words would ever be true. This was Natasha, he was kid's sister – and by right – his daughter, and she was being taken from him. His oldest child. Gone. Like a shadow in the night.

**11:58 am Friday, 8th September 2017**

Nat put on a brave face as she pulled away from Brooke. It was time to go. With a sad smile, Nat recalled this as being the only place she had left with fond memories and a farewell party. Because Nat did not attend public school, her only friends were from the neighbourhood. So all the kids – and some parents – who knew Nat and had become friends with her over the past three months were out on the street to say goodbye.

"Yo looser!" a cocky voice broke free from the small crowd of people. "Didn't think you could leave without sayin' g-bye, did ya?"

"_MJ_?" shock laced her voice.

Merliah Jewel Bright.

She was Nat's first actual friend. They met over a year ago and despite constantly moving around, Merliah and Natasha had remained close friends. For Christmas, after knowing each other for only a month, Merliah got Nat an iPhone, so they could stay in touch. Their family had even gone as far as to foster Nat for two months; they had wanted to adopt the girl too, only to find out that her file was frozen.

"Hey sis," she said with a smirk.

"Liah… you came," said Nat in disbelief. Her best and only friend had come to see her off. After a moment of taking her surrogate sister in, the two girls ran to each other, colliding in an embrace.

"Gods I've missed you," MJ whispered into Nat's ear, so only she could hear her.

"Tobi and I got you this," MJ said, holding up a small velvet bag, "for protection."

Stunned at her friends' kindness, Nat was frozen for a good ten seconds before she tipped the contents of the bag into her hand, a black leather cord with a silver pendant attached fell elegantly into her palm. Picking it up to examine the 3D detail on the circular charm, Nat recognised the symbol on the front. The _Zibu_ sign called _Hamada_, which represents Vitality (basically meaning strength or energy. Vitality is the essence of life). Surrounding the sign were waves.

Natasha ran her fingers across the pendant; a strange feeling washing over her, (at the time, Nat thought that she had imagined it, but she could have sworn she felt energy from the ocean flow from the waves themselves). On the flip-side, the symbol of Hope from the same language, called _Sati_, was in a continuous loop around the edge. The _Sati_ ring encircled a firebird insignia. The universal symbol for rebirth, immortality, hope, and freedom. The design was beautiful. Intricate detail adorned every fragment of the charm.

On the cord was also a ring. The outside looked as if it contained the ocean itself, flowing and moving in the light of the sun. Equilateral etched inside the silver ring was a minuscule drawing of another _Zibu_ sign, the word _Huka_ (which Nat remembered being the English name of the Arabic symbol, which stood for Awakening), and the inscription_ "Παιδί ωκεανού." _

Merliah looked hesitant about what she said next. She spoke in an undertone that gave Natasha the impression that there was more to it than she let on. "It's to remind you never to give up… to be strong and well – to keep you safe."

_"Thank you."_

A strange sort of hush fell over the neighbours as a sleek, black, government vehicle pulled up. Waving goodbye to the small crowd of gathered people, Nat and MJ walked side by side up to the man in a black suit standing by the car. Agent Henderson. Same as always.

MJ turned and wrapped her arms tightly around her friend. "I'd say good luck, but I know that doesn't exist for you." Nat could see the pain her friend was in, her small smile not reaching her eyes. But for her sake, Merliah put on a brave façade and stood back from her.

Just as Nat closed the black car door, she heard two words leave MJ's mouth.

_"Die bravely."_


	5. Chapter 3 - Too Soon

**Chapter 3 – Too Soon**

**23:32 pm Thursday, 5th October 2017**

Sitting on the rooftop that she was _definitely _meant to be on, Nat's mind wandered back on the previous month of hell. Why did this keep on happening? So many people in the world, but _no_. The Fates decided to make her insignificant existence as miserable as they possibly could.

Nat closed her eyes as a light breeze hit her face, thankful for the cool night during October; the month of mixed seasons. Fingers gently brushing against the purplish mark on her cheek, Nat let out a resigned sigh. That was nothing new either. The injuries. Torture, abusive foster homes, it all just added up. Long, curly hair blew around Nat's face as she watched the busy road. Cars drove past, tired from a long shift and eager to get home. Blissfully unaware of a tormented child, mere meters away.

No one knew. No one cared. What did the feelings of one child matter? She was a foster kid with a troubled past, who would believe her claims? Only a matter of time before she was moved again anyway, so what was the point.

One month. That was the standard time with any foster home. Most of the homes just seemed to blur together to form over a year of loneliness and discomfort. Natasha could count the number of families she had been genuinely happy at on one hand with fingers to spare. Sharing a room with MJ. The Ryan's. That man who lived on a farm – what was his name? Cody Hood and his daughter Molly. Such a tomboy is she'd ever seen one. That kid refused to wear skirts, dresses or anything resembling pink. She had actually learned French while staying there, seeing as it was the family's first language.

It had only been one month, yet it had felt like another lifetime since Nat was sitting at the dinner table with Brooke and the rest of the family. A whole month without seeing MJ.

Literally the worst form of torture known to man.

Then thinking back to her hidden past, Nat reconsidered. If the scars that littered her back and torso were anything to go by, there had been much torture and torment in her life. Yet knowing this gave Nat little comfort; she still missed her friend dearly.

Natasha let out a low sigh, combing her overgrown bangs out of her eyes with her small, scarred fingers. Hand coming to rest on her swollen, bruised and blackened eye, Nat shifted uncomfortably at the memory. One of the boys had jumped her while she was cleaning the table after dinner. Smashed and shattered, she had been cut by the glass and then beaten by her foster carer, James. At least she healed fast. Give it a few hours and there wouldn't even be a scar. _This time._

The wind began to pick up and as lightning flashed across the sky. The rain had not yet come, yet the clouds blocked out the stars. She sat outside for a few more minutes until water started falling from the sky.

Groaning in defeat, Nat sat up to begin her descent off the roof. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, momentarily lighting up the dismal street and illuminating a shadowed figure. Not even a second later, a defining clap of thunder came. And just like that, he was gone from sight. But still, Nat stared in relief. He had found her. She was safe. Why this random shadow made Natasha feel safe, she had no clue. But he did, so she accepted the fact.

The ongoing lightning strikes continued to show the strange man, standing out in the increasing drizzle of rain. They stood out in the rain, now a continuous drum on the corrugated roof, eyes locked despite the vanishing light. Eventually, Nat turned away, determined to head inside before she became completely soaked to the bone. It wasn't like he was going anywhere.

Seven-thirty. That was when James Anderson came downstairs. Meaning that Nat had to have breakfast and coffee ready and waiting by then. And their children's school lunches packed before that. When James came walking down the stair, his posture totally read_ 'I'm not going to deal with any of your crap today.'_ Which, for Nat, loosely translated to _'I will beat you up and take out all my frustration on you if you get in my way.'_

Nat picked up his coffee and set it on the table by his right hand. He didn't say thanks, he didn't even acknowledge her, but Nat didn't mind, she was far too used to it to care anyway._ "You are not to be seen, you are not to be heard. You will do what you are told when you are told – no exceptions or you will be punished."_ That was how she lived.

Natasha could hear arguing coming from upstairs and rolled her eyes at the object of the quarrel. Nat had to resist the urge to shout for them to be quiet, just as she heard Bethany yell at her younger brothers.

"Would you two just quit it already! You're both beautiful ladies so just leave it at that!"

A few moments later both of them were racing down the stairs. Bailey with only his right sock on and Boston only had two buttons on his uniform done up. Nat finished setting the table and made her leave as the rest of the family came downstairs. No need to get into any more trouble today.

Natasha stayed well and truly out of the way, which was how she liked it. In any case, peaceful solitude was better than accompanied chaos. Coming back from a household bin run, Nat finally had the house to herself – bar the cats of course.

Coco and Lala could usually be found slinking somewhere dark and small. James had left for work, and Sarah had taken her kids to school on her way to work herself, leaving Nat to clean up, as per usual. Pulling her hair back in a messy bun, Natasha began her round of daily chores, humming the soundtrack of the Annie remake as she went.

Almost two hours later Nat was finally done the abundance of chores left for her to do daily. Running up to her room, Nat spread her books, a pencil case and laptop in a semi-circle around her on the floor. Learning was something Natasha was good at. With moving from home to home every month or so, it became second nature to learn and adjust to specific requirements.

Home-school was easy, to say the least. Everything just seemed so simple. The only thing that ever stumped her was in English. Those _damn _prefixes and suffixes made no sense. If '_dislike_' is the opposite of '_like_', is '_disaster_' the opposite of '_aster_'? And why isn't '_whelmed_' a thing? How can you be '_overwhelmed_' and '_underwhelmed_' yet have nothing in-between? _Blah!_

Nat was a whiz when it came to math and science, but her real forte was in languages. Chinese? Check. Greek, Russian? Double check. German? Bingo. Arabic? Why not. Nat had even started a Romanian course last week and guess what – fluent! Natasha had a faint recollection of speaking Romanian to a kid when she was younger. Maybe at a circus? All she knew was it was noisy and colourful.

Curled up in the corner of her room with holding her phone, Spotify open on the screen, Nat had large black headphones, pretending that this was all just a dream. Astronaut, by Simple Plan, surrounded Nat. As she closed her eyes and became absorbed in the song. Her body lifeless, face void of any emotion. The only signs of life being her deep purple eyes glistening with tears.

"Can anybody hear me?" she asked. "Or am I talking to myself? My mind is running empty, in this search for someone else, who doesn't look right through me. It's all just static in my head..."

_Why... Why me? Why does everyone have to leave? Why do I have to live through hell? Why can't I be with my family? Why don't I deserve someone, anyone, in my life? I was left alone, begging for help and no one heard. And I'm stuck here on my own, lost... forgotten to the world._

"Can I please come down? Cause I'm tired of drifting round and round. Can I please come down? I'm deafened by the silence. Is it something that I've done? I know that there are millions... I can't be the only one who's so disconnected. It's so different in my head. Can anybody tell me why I'm lonely like a satellite?"

"'Cause tonight I'm feeling like an astronaut, sending SOS from this tiny box to the lonely people that the world forgot. Are you out there? 'Cause you're all I've got."

_I lie awake every night, screaming in my head. The nightmares, the darkness... it's too strong. I can't fight it off forever. It's dragging me down. I don't know if I can ever come back._

"Can I please come down? So tonight I'm calling all astronauts. All the lonely people that the world forgot. If you hear my voice, come pick me up. Are you out there? 'Cause you're all I've got...

_Can I please come down?_

**20:46 pm Friday, 6th October 2017**

"Natalie, get over here and clean up," Adrienne snapped at her once everyone had finished eating. Nat walked over to the sink and dishwasher in annoyance. A whole stinking month of this Schist!

"How many times do I have to tell you? My name is not Natalie," she replied in a deadly calm to her foster mum.

The sound of Adrienne's hand connecting to Nat's face resonated through the house. Adrienne had slapped her. That Cow! Nat turned her head to look back at the crazy woman, ignoring the pain in her cheek that was already fading to a dull sting.

"I don't care! You are in Australia now, so you will act like it. No more _forging _names!" she spat the word out like it was diseased.

"Seriously? Australia has only been colonised for two-hundred years! There is a very small pool of names which originate from here!" Nat went off, not really caring about the consequences.

_"In any case, Natalie is still Russian..."_ Nat commented back quietly. But apparently, the woman didn't like that. Not at all.

"How many times do I have to punish you before you get it through your head? Stop speaking that infernal language!" Adrienne yelled at the child as she slapped her again.

_"By the Gods, I didn't do anything wrong!"_

A moment later, James' fist connected to Nat's face.

_Meh_, she thought. _I've had worse._

_"Να πας στο διαολο,"_ Nat spat out in Greek, _"Go to Hell"_

"That includes using that disgusting accent your parents gave you!" James' voice rang in her ears.

"You know what? _Vàll' eis Kórakas! Throw yourself to the crows. Flocci non faccio, I don't give a damn."_

Adrienne slapped her one last time, "and clean this mess up," before following her good-for-nothing husband to the couch where they proceeded to watch the news. _And I'm invisible again..._

She could fight back – Nat could easily defend herself – but it wasn't worth it. The last time she had done that, she almost ended up in juvie. So, Nat let them have their way with her. It wouldn't be for long anyway. She'd be picked up and carted off to some other place within the week.

_And that day couldn't come soon enough._

Nat was almost done cleaning when something leaked through her mental block. Now, usually, Nat tuned herself out when around others because she couldn't be bothered with humanity anymore. But something the woman said had Natasha transfixed on the televisions.

_"A family of six have been caught in an explosion in their own home, the origin is still unknown. Authorities and paramedics are making their way to the scene. Reports are flooding in that the residential home of 475 Honour Avenue, Graceville is engulfed in flames. There have been no survivors found. Neighbours tell us that the Ryan family was home during the explosion..."_

The sound of multiple glass plates smashing against concrete floors broke the silence.

A constricting feeling, much like an invisible hand grabbing at her throat seemed to be depriving Natasha of air.

_No..._

It felt like the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders, crushing her in its presence. It was as if she was holding up the sky itself. There was no sound. No air. _Nothing_. Frozen in place, Nat could only watch the footage in horror.

_Please... no._

"Natalie, what the hell are you doing?" James screamed at the girl. But she just stood in stunned silence.

_This couldn't be happening. How? Why? Why them?_ The amnesiac child could only process single word thoughts. It was all too much.

_No... no-no-no-no-no. Fire. Survivors. None. Explosion. H.Y.D.R.A. Escape. Help. Run. Run._

_Run!_

Freed from her temporal parlays, Nat's eyes darted wildly around the kitchen bench, coming to rest on a set of keys. Without hesitation, Natasha launched herself over the island bench and snatched up the key-chain. She didn't stop running until she was out of the house and onto the driveway. Mounting James Anderson's motorbike, Nat sped off, calculating time in her head as wind gushed past her. Fifteen kilometres, roughly twenty minutes at sixty k's an hour. Can make it in under three minutes with a hell-a-lot of speeding.

People were out on the streets. Neighbours had gathered around as emergency responders attempted to control the blaze.

_"Nu!"_ a scream tore at her throat. Natasha had broken through the police barrier and climbed through a shattered window into a bedroom. Fire surrounding her, smoke billowing from under the door.

"Jacen?" she called out into intense heat. "Giselle! Where are you?"

Strong hands wrapped around her as she was thrown over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "No, no! _Lemme go!_ No, _Brooke_!"

_"My family's in there,"_ she screamed at the A.S.I.S. agent holding her back, _"They're gonna burn – You're letting them die!"_ Nat didn't stop screaming until she was placed on the grass outside the blackened house, amber flames licking at the windows. Nat's arms were still pinned down by the man attempt to stop her from escaping. Moisture rolled down Natasha's cheeks, glistening eyes watching on in terror.

"Natasha stop," he ordered. "They're gone. It's too late."

As realisation dawned on her that it was too late to save them, the struggling, kicking, and shouting all came to a halt. Natasha went slack in the man's grasp. It was no use. They were gone. Forever. _Like a shadow in the night._

_"Pozhaluysta... net..."_ Natasha whispered in hopeless. It was over.

"This attack was meant to kill you. We need to go - _now_!" The words rang in Natasha's head half a dozen times before her brain actually registered what was said.

Nat's legs seemed to stop working as the words sunk in. unable to support her weight, she sunk to the ground. It was her fault. They were after her. Numb with pain, she allowed herself to be dragged to a government car.

_Or perhaps it could. That day was here. But at a cost._

Amber eyes stared out of the tinted window, hollow and full of pain. It took a while before Nat found her voice again.

"W-where are you taking me?" Usually, Nat would never let herself be taken – at night no less – by some guy and follow him into a car. But Henderson was always in charge of relocation Nat, so he became the exception.

Nat looked away from the passenger window and to agent Henderson in the driver's seat. You know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine, and you think they're probably lying to make you feel better? Yeah. That was his face. He looked like he wanted to lie, but he looked at the girl and thought better of it.

Natasha was in very real danger. And no amount of sugar-coating and curveballs could change that. "HYDRA is on your tail. You can't go back to the Anderson house. You aren't safe anymore."

"They beat the crap out of me; how was I any safer there?" Natasha asked hotly, then, as an afterthought, she added, "why can't I just stay in one place?"

"You know why, Natasha-"

"No, I don't actually," she cut him off, irritation levels rising. When would people stop treating her as if she was a delicate, prissy princess that could break down at any moment? "You never tell me."

Ouch. Henderson looked over to the child next to him. Always on the run, life being torn apart before her eyes. She deserved to know.

"HYDRA is still looking for you, Natasha. You were rescued a year and a half ago from a HYDRA base. It's been my job to keep you moving every few months, so they don't catch up with you. But you were happy..." he shook his head, focus turning back to the dark, wet and ominous road. "I let you stay with the Ryan's too long... and now you're in even more danger than before."

With a huff, Natasha turned away. She rested her arm resting on the door to act as a pillow for her head. The car trip was silent after that. Agent Henderson mulling over in his mind how he could keep the girl in the seat next to him safe. While Natasha was busy ignoring all of her emotions, like always.

There are two efficient ways to ignore what you are feeling. First, you can occupy yourself with as many thoughts and activities as possible. If your mind is busy, you won't have time to remember you are in pain. And second, nothingness. Complete and utter oblivion. Nothing to think; nothing to feel.

Option one is tiering but option two kinda makes you seem like a robot. _Oh well..._ Natasha's lack of thought was only interrupted by a faint sound coming closer and closer. Her eyes widened a fraction when the origin of the sound came into view. She barely managed to shout out a warning,_ "Henderson, look out!"_ before the car was hit, rolling multiple times, eventually stopping on a – very destroyed – roof.

Searing, white-hot heat blinded Natasha as the car tumbled. Her entire left side covered in burns and blood. Shattered glass leaving hundreds of cuts bleeding, shards of glass protruding from the skin.

"Mr Henderson?" Natasha asked, coming out of a daze. "Mr Henderson!" Nat lifted her left arm to reach across and try and wake the unconscious Agent, but agonising pain stabbed at her arm as she yanked it out from where it was being crushed between the car door and seat. Natasha cried out in pain, her arm (correction: broken arm) had metal and glass sticking out of it. _Brilliant_.

"Agent Michael Henderson?" Nat called, desperately searching for signs of life. There was no reply. She forced herself to steady her breathing, listening for the sound of a second heartbeat.

_Nothing._

Ignoring the dead body less than a half meter away from her, Natasha focused on her other arm. Part of the roof had caved in and she couldn't get free. This is gonna hurt, was her only thought on the matter. Nat clenched her teeth together in preparation as she counted backwards from three.

_Tri, dva, odin._

With an excruciating jolt of pain, Natasha forced her shoulder out of its socket. Natasha let lose a Russian curse.

Finally able to pull free, Natasha crawled away from the wreckage (severely cutting open her hands and knees on obliterated shards of glass in the process). Looking back at the wreckage, Natasha turned and took off into the woods.

Injured, bleeding, and on the verge of passing out, she stumbled and fell in the pitch-black forest. The trees bowed and bent low as a chilled wind howled through their branches. Not too far away, the distinct sound of a hunting cry. A pack of Dingoes were nearing.

With her vision going dark as the world spun at her feet, Nat saw about seven shadows, contracting into one man before splitting again.

_"Rest now, kid,"_ a familiar voice that Natasha couldn't pinpoint spoke. _"You're safe."_


	6. Chapter 4 - Death Strikes Again

**Chapter 4 – Death Strikes Again**

**01:16 Friday, 6th October 2017**

This wasn't supposed to happen. A simple task to watch over a child and cover her tracks. That was it. Something shady was going on; surrounding this child and he felt obligated to help her. Nothing more. His former employs needed a ghost operative to protect the only child to ever escape HYDRA. Unfortunately, _without_ her memories intact. Which made it that much harder to find where the girl belonged. That, and the fact that _Natasha Turner_ didn't actually exist. Fake name, past everything. He knew that her personal file was made up. HYDRA had been very thorough in making sure that no one could ever find her true identity, that was for sure. But ASIS had taken her fake information and put it into Natasha Turner's file.

He didn't need to watch over her every night – just keep tabs on the girl. Make sure no one picks up her trail and step in if she is in danger – so why did he feel compelled to go as far as helping her with her night terrors?

Probably guilt for not helping her earlier. He had been looking into HYDRA ages ago for general intel as well as a more _personal _reason. He knew that HYDRA was affiliated with groups like the KGB and, going back in history, the Nazi's, as well as being involved in their own projects to take over the world. He knew HYDRA had children being held captive, but he was too preoccupied with a personal vendetta to help those child soldiers. He could have rescued her _years_ ago.

_But he didn't._

A few days ago, he had gone to scope out the HYDRA base the child, _Natasha_, was found at after the ASIS raid to shut the operation down. Hidden deep within encrypted computer files was a folder called "Project: Rogue Wave." It was everything HYDRA had on her since she had been abducted during a failed infiltration, four years prior. However, all other information about that raid had been whipped clean. That facility had been shut down but was easy enough to find. Four years' worth of torture, training, and experimental genetic tests; it was all there. She had been moved around constantly during that period to remain undetected, but no one seemed to know who she really was.

Yet the confusion bomb was dropped when her integration report stated that no mental wipe or mind control was had taken place in order to control the child. A few persuasive plays maybe, but nothing that would take away all of her memories. Overall, the child had given into to them; or at least, she made it seem that way. There was always a chance the Natasha was playing with them; biding her time until such an opportunity arose that she could escape. Natasha Turner was that name when she was rescued, because of some – _very _concerning – writing on her cell wall. Concerning because it was, _well_… it was written in her own _blood_. The writing was mostly untranslatable, apart from the Latin alphabet name "Natasha" and a few random phrases here and there.

According to the records of "Rogue Wave" known as simply as Rogue around HYDRA, her given name was _Okeaniya Volk_, filed years ago from her time in the Red Room; a Russian institute that trains young girls as spies under the cover as a prestigious ballet school. That place was a whole nother level of messed up.

Turns out that HYDRA didn't even know her real name. No one did. She refused to give any information, no matter how much pain they put her through; even the name Natasha was an alias to fool governments if they found her. Okeaniya Volk didn't exist. The kid was a ghost. The was no records of a child her age matching her description that was unaccounted for. Slade sought out the original base HYDRA used to imprison _Natasha_, or whoever she is, out in America, in the hopes that there would be some clue as to who she is. For some reason, HYDRA had gone to great lengths to keep her hidden away from the world; far enough to move her to the other side of the globe. No other file had been encrypted to the level of 'Okeaniya Volk'.

There was almost nothing to go on, but the place wasn't a total bust. On a cell wall, roman numerals in Natasha's handwriting (samples of which he had collected from her schoolwork) were etched into a stone wall along with many other words. Most illegible or untranslatable. But a few lines stood out. _Forget the ocean. Protect them. Run. Leave. Don't forget. Pretend. Memories safe. Remember who you are. Survive._

A sentence was written in Russian Cyrillic along the opposite wall, "_Моя семья - моя сила и моя слабость." _Which said something along the lines of "_family is my strength and my weakness."_

The Ghost operative found an abandoned hard drive in a security room. Pocketing that for later, he headed to a private airstrip where an ASIS jet was waiting to take him back to Australia. He needed to check up on this _Phantom _child, as she had been appropriately nicknamed. She could only be left alone for so long before she inevitably dug herself into a hole too deep to see the light of day, and four weeks was definitely too long.

After at thirteen-hour flight, he touched down on Aussie soil and, without even going home after his investigation, he made his way to Natasha's current foster placement. And as usual, she sat alone on the slanted roof, staring off into the cloudless sunset.

How the child always managed to climb to the roof of wherever she was, he didn't know. But he understood it made her feel safe when she could see the stars and know that she wasn't trapped, so he wouldn't try to stop her. He knew she was more than capable of getting up there safely; the kid could handle herself. Satisfied that she wasn't in any imminent danger, he left to a local safe-house to extract as much information as inhumanly possible from the broken hard-drive.

**20:46 Friday, 6th October 2017**

Frustratingly, the hard-drive didn't seem to have much – if not any – data on this "_ghost child"_. _Typical_. He was so immersed in his work he almost didn't hear an alarm going off from a device stashed in his belt. The tracker he had placed on the child last time she had a particularly distressing night terror mixed in with lost memories slowly resurfacing. It was nanoscopic and connected to the necklace she ever took off. He had set it to go off if the child in question left the proximity barrier – which she had. At alarming speeds too. Why did she have to be running away again?

He unmuted the news on another monitor and listened to the "breaking news" with increasing concern. Reading the location on the bottom of the screen, he double-checked the tracer in the girl. That's where she was heading. And if this attack was planned by HYDRA, she would be in a lot more danger than usual. _Dammit. _Kid was gonna get herself killed.

He kept a close eye on the girl as she was dragged out of the burning building and into an unmarked car. ASIS Agent Michael Henderson. The man assigned to her safety. _Good going dipstick, you led them straight to her._ That man was a fool for what he had done to her and in idiot to think she would still be safe afterwards.

The only problem with following from a distance was that he was too far away to get the girl out of the car safely before it turned into a fiery mess. Checking that the girl was still breathing, he turned back to find the assailants. It would be no use if they could come back to kill her later. But by the time he had finished the guy off, Natasha had somehow escaped the car wreck. Not really caring about the Henderson oaf, he followed the slightly alarming amount of blood leaving a trail into the woods of the side of the road.

Natasha was still losing blood when he found her. It was obvious that she was trying to stem the flow, but not really succeeding. She was refraining to make a sound in case she attracted unwanted predators (the kid _was_ in a forest after all), aka dingos or drop bears. She was leaning against a tree trunk as she struggled to remain conscious, failing miserably at the latter. He watched as her eyes went in and out of focus many times, the struggle evidently becoming increasingly more intense with each passing moment if the look on her face and lack of control to her limbs were anything to go by.

"Rest now, kid," he said. "You're safe." At his words, there was a split second of confusion before she managed to process what was said. Within seconds she was out cold, her face contorted in pain as she slept restlessly.

**02:10 Saturday, 7th October 2017**

Natasha felt herself being placed down on what felt like a table with a thin mattress. She was still in a considerable amount of pain, so much so that her vision was still blurry. Jerking up, she looked around in panic. _Where the hell was she?_

"Hey, kid," said the same voice as before, "try not to move around too much. You're injured."

Looking down at her abdomen, she finally realised why her stomach felt so itchy. A hastily wrapped bandage adorned her – still bleeding – torso. The man from the forest (only one of him this time, Natasha realised as her vision finally cleared) walked over and placed something down on a table next to Nat's head. He was dressed in cargo pants, shirt and a jacket that looked of army origin. For the life of her, she had no clue as to why he had rescued her.

_Who the hell was this guy?_

"You're lucky you're not dead," he looked her in the eye, and it was then that Natasha realised he only had one. The other was covered by a black eye-patch (this guy a pirate or something?). "That explosion should have killed you."

_Yeah, and so should have a lot of other things, but I'm still breathing… unfortunately. _

Pirate dude took a step closer to Nat. And in her panicked state, she leant back on her hands to attempt to get as far away as possible from him, conveniently forgetting that one arm was broken, and the same shoulder had been _deliberately_ dislocated. A small cry escaped her lips as pain – almost like electricity – shot up her arms. Leaning forward, Natasha cradled both her arms in her lap, she took in sharp breaths in an attempt to steel herself. She refused to show weakness.

_Weakness is not tolerated. _

"Natasha," a voice that commanded respect spoke, breaking her out of her pain-filled trance. "I have to set your shoulder." One of the cuts right next to her eye had reopened and left a small trail blood down her face. Strangely, Nat felt the man was actually looking at her for permission. After a few seconds of letting her brain catch up to her current situation, Nat nodded her head twice.

"Okay," he said. Nat felt, rather than saw (her vision was still blurry, and tainted slightly red from blood obscuring her vision) the man put one hand near her shoulder and the other grasp her lower arm. Gently pulling the arm behind her, he asked if she was ready. Taking a few shuddering breaths, Natasha had to bite back a scream as her shoulder was forcefully jolted back into its socket.

The ghost agent was exceedingly shocked that the girl didn't scream; she wasn't even crying. The only sound that escaped the injured child was a hiss as her shoulder popped back into place. How this kid; this _eleven_-year-old _child_, was considered human, was crazy. Her pain tolerance was incredibly high. He didn't even want to think of what she would have had to go through to build a tolerance to pain like that.

Groaning a few times as she rotated her shoulder back and forth, she didn't realise the man had left her side. He came back moments later with an exoskeleton type contraption. Holding a piece in either hand, Nat had to appreciate the spiderweb design, it looked like a Spiderman, sci-fi... thing.

"It's a cast," he explained at her dumbfounded look. The expression on her face changed from confused to understanding and – almost – excitement. _Almost_.

"You have a 3D-Printer?" he had to resist the urge to laugh at the girl. Of all the things she could have asked.

"Yeah, now give me your arm," he said sternly when she seemed to forget its intended purpose of the object. Natasha watched in fascination as the cast was clipped on, covering her broken arm. New tech was always interesting to mess with.

"Kid," he said, gaining her attention. "I need you to remove your shirt… I have to see how badly you were injured."

_Oh, crud._

It was harder than it sounded to remove one's shirt with a broken arm and a newly re-located shoulder that still hurt terribly. Seeing her struggle, he stepped forward and reached for the bottom of the girl's ripped, burned, and blood-stained shirt. Nat nodded once at his silent request. He pulled the ruined shirt up and over her head, careful of her injuries, and discarded it in the bin along with the abandoned bandages.

He momentarily forgot that he had a child to treat at the sight of old wounds and scars littering the child's torso. _There were just so many…_ Forcing himself to stay on task, he grabbed a wet rag and began to wipe away the blood. Many cuts that were causing bleeding were from shattered glass. Most weren't even that deep, just grazes from the mayhem. But there were a few deep gashes with shrapnel still inside. The girl didn't even flinch when he pulled the pieces of debris out of her abdomen and back.

Once again going over her torso with a wet rag, he was confused to see many of her wounds had almost finished healing. Yet one press against her ribcage confirmed his suspicions when the child, yet again, hissed in pain and flinched away. Broken ribs. She was gonna need the serum. And probably an IV.

"Kid, I need to put you on a drip." Natasha's breathing hitched at the mention of needles, only for pain to shoot through her chest. Broken ribs really made it hard to breathe.

"_No,_" she whimpered. _"Please… don't."_ He could see the pure terror in the girl's startling sage green eyes. Of course, she would be afraid of things being injected into her. Those disgusting _monsters_ had experimented on her. On a _child_. Injected her with strange chemicals that caused her unimaginable amounts of pain. They had done so much to her. It was a wonder how the girl was still sane, let alone alive.

"Tash, I'm just trying to help you," he said in a quiet and calm voice. If he got agitated, she would no doubt sense it and have a full-blown panic attack. "I promise, the only things in it are saline, dextrose, electrolytes and vitamins."

He could see the girl trying to regain her composure but evidently struggling. He laid a hand on the girl's less injured arm and looked her in the eye, "I'm not going to hurt you." Looking into eyes that seemed to be able to read the universe, he couldn't help but feel sorry for all the young girl had had to deal with. There was so much pain hidden beneath her deep green orbs. So much loss. Walls built up to protect her from being hurt again. Broken and fractured; they were falling apart.

_And so was she._

"Natasha, I need you to trust me." After staring into his single eye for what felt like an eternity, Nat's eyes flitted around the room once before landing back on the man. A small nod, only just seen, was all he needed. He got to work immediately. Guiding her to lie down, he readied the equipment, brushing the girl's overgrown bangs out of her eyes, he told her that everything was going to be okay. Attaching the bag of fluids to the girl's arm, he then held up a syringe containing a gold-coloured liquid within.

"Pain killer." She looked sceptically at the colour, so he elaborated. "I can't give you a general anaesthetic because your metabolism will go through it too fast; it will be," he hesitated, searching for the right word, "ineffective. This is my own formula. You are immune to most drugs – pharmaceutical _and_ illegal. Anything less won't work on you. I designed this for you to heal injuries or numb pain." She still looked hesitant, but in the end, discomfort won over distrust. And even if it all went downhill, Nat figured things couldn't get much worse than they already were, which was an unsurprising revelation on her part.

At the kid's go-ahead, the gold substance was injected into the IV chord. He watched as she stared, unblinking and unseeing at the ceiling above. If you looked at her close enough, you would notice the miniscule movement of her shaking in fear. _Emotional overload. _

Natasha, this _child_, had been alone for so long now, she had forgotten what it was like for someone to help her. Forgotten what it was like to trust someone.

_"Who are you?"_ the soft and innocent question penetrated the silence.

"Slade Wilson," his reply was short. There would be plenty of time to talk later. For now, he was more invested in keeping the kid alive.

"Get some sleep kid," he said softly. "God knows you need it." That was the last thing she heard before she let the darkness consume her.


	7. Chapter 5 - Mother Russia

**Chapter 5 – Mother Russia**

**03:54 Monday, 19th May 2008**

_"Danya," an ombre-haired girl turned to her friend, determination on her face. _"Run!"_ the urgent whisper was lost through the crowded streets. With a quick nod of understanding, a mess of dirty, dark red hair took off, waves bouncing off her shoulders as she ran; weaving in and out of any and all pedestrians who blocked the path to her destination._

_Knowing where the nearest ally way was; she headed in the opposite direction to Danya, she clambered up a run-down building, travelling by rooftop to stay out of sight. A bird; feathers black as night flew above her as she ran. The first rays of sunlight making the blond streaks in her hair glisten and shone in the chilled breeze. _

_Scanning the crowd for the assassin who had been following her and Danya since before dawn, she watched from her vantage point as the eight-year-old led him to another alley, this one with only one exit. She watched as the raven landed near her sister, watching with a calculation stare as the young girl froze, waiting for her to take this man out - permanently. _

_Hatred clouded her deep blue eyes. She didn't even give the man a chance to speak before she flipped down from her perch and landed on top of him, plunging her dagger into his neck as she went. His body dropped to the ground; limp and lifeless. He lay unmoving as the young girls conversed above him. Blood slowly seeping out and staining the old street._

_"You good?" the question was directed towards the younger of the two girls. _

"Alive and unarmed, Lexi,"_ came the reply. A gently Russian accent lifting the English words. Danya could see Lex was more worried than she let on – they had known each other their whole lives after all – she was concerned as well. _

_"Where's Anatoly when you need him?" Alexei glanced at the ever-fading stars, rapidly disappearing in the early morning light. _

_Lexi gave the younger girl a once over. Seemingly satisfied that her little sister was unharmed, she pulled the man to the side of the street, dropping his body near a large pile of rotting trash. An eye-watering smell wafted over her. It was disgusting. This place was an absolute dump. _

_Lexi was growing increasingly more worried with each tome another assassin found them, and it showed. Maybe not to a stranger, but Danya had known Alexios her life. Her adopted sister was barely a year older than herself. Lexi stood by her when they were taken away by strange men in masks and never left her side. Her sister always did everything she could to protect and raise her the way their parents had wanted._

_Danya had seen the look on her sister's face many times before. The worst time had been when she and Lexi were taken into science lab looking rooms; Danya had been knocked out as soon as she was laid on a table, so she couldn't remember anything (apart from an ear-piercing scream that Danya was convinced came from her sister), but Alexei had told her that she was awake the whole time. She refused to tell her anything though, other than that it was painful. Although, Danya was convinced it had hurt more than she let on._

_This was the third person her and Lexi had found stalking them in the past week. Lexi had resorted to killing the spies before they could report their location, in fear of being taken back. The streets were no place for young children to live, let alone in Russia. _

_"Let's go." The two girls made their way back out into the open street, sticking close together. Alexei was not going to lose her sister again. It was too painful. No, she wouldn't let it happen. She would do whatever it took to protect Danika Melodiya Amare Volk, her sister in everything but blood. _

_Deep-sea eyes stared into amber orbs, a silent conversating taking place that only they were aware of. This was going to keep happening; they were never going to stop looking for them unless they thought they were dead. Nowhere was safe. _

**14:10 Saturday, 7th October 2017**

Eyes blinking sleepily, Natasha sat up and scanned her surroundings. _Where in Hades was she? _The previous night's memories came rushing back to her.

"Well... I'm alive," she said to nobody in particular. "That's something."

Noticing that the IV drip in her arm was empty, Nat swiftly extracted the needle, depositing it by the side of the table-bed-thing that she was sitting on. She went to look at her broken arm encased in an exoskeleton, only just realising it was covered by a long cotton shirt.

She definitely did not pass out in this.

Long, light-weight pants and a soft crossover shirt, all of it was a light grey-blue colour. Not really caring that someone had changed her clothes while unconscious, she swung her legs over the edge. Shaking her head to rid herself of the dizziness, Nat stood up. Having to grab onto the examination table behind her to steady herself. Despite breaking her arm only hours earlier, Natasha was surprised by the lack of any pain coming from it as she lent more weight on it to test her limitations. If she had to fight, it would be good to know if she could rely on all of her limbs.

Once the room decided to stop doing backflips, she crept out of the room and peaked her head around the corner shyly. Time to figure out where in the universe she had ended up this time.

Bare feet padded silently along the empty halls. Natasha stuck close to the wall, one hand running along the cool concrete surface as she went. A short eternity of wandering around later, Nat found a dark set of spiral stairs. Not bothering to find the light switch, Natasha carefully moved down the steps, making no sound as she descended.

As the ceiling began to pass her feet, Natasha saw light flooding in through the gap, illuminating the dark stairwell. Going down a few more steps until she could see through the roof rafters, Nat stood transfixed at the scene before her. What looked like a deadly dance between the man who had rescued her, and a bunch of holograms displayed on the ground some ten meters below.

Ducking under the railing, Nat lowered herself onto the rafter that connected to the stairs, beams stretching along the width of the room. She continued to watch the fight with increasing fascination. _Slash, duck, stab, roll, block, repeat. _The sequence went on, mesmerising in how each movement seemed to flow perfectly into the next. Never a waver or falter; the man destroyed the holographic opponents without difficulty or fault.

One of her legs slid over the edge to hang in the air, her eyes spellbound by the movements of her shadow. This man had been following her from the shadows, protecting her for so long, never coming into the light.

_Until now. _

Her other leg made its way beside the first soon after. She set her arms on her legs, hands resting under her chin; propping up her head as she continued to watch the man fight. She was completely captivated by the display of power before her. Attacks and blocks in perfect sync. The _hiss _of metal cut through the air as a broadsword moved in harmony with its master, seemingly becoming an extension of his own arm.

Somewhere at the back her mind, something unlocked. Something powerful; something dangerous broke free from the chains holding it down. Nat took a few shuddering breaths, unable to comprehend what was happening. Her head was spinning with forgotten memories and abandoned feelings that stirred deep within. It was strong and overwhelmingly powerful, and it threatened to push through and bury her, never letting up. Knowledge of things long since forgotten resurfaced. Memories upon memories came flooding back all at once. Learning and running and training; the fight of her life.

All mumbled and jumbled up inside the raging storm that was her mind. Names and faces, just out of reach. How it was all ruthlessly ripped out of her grasp, lost to the world. Bottled up emotions came tumbling out, crushing in their weight. Skills of how to fight; to win... _to kill._

_It was all too much. _

Squeezing her eyes shut, Nat attempted to stop the torrent of images flashing through her mind, threatening to make her pass out. She lowered her hands, gripping the beam with white-knuckle ferocity in a desperate attempt to anchor herself to reality.

_But it wasn't enough._

It would never be enough. She could feel herself slipping, all sense of reality vanishing as she fell through the air. Falling, falling, she was forever falling. Down; down; down she tumbled, to the cold, hard ground below. The wind rushed in her ears as air warped around her thin frame. She couldn't breathe. There was nothing left. Nothing at all.

Trapped in a fantasy world, mentally wrestling with the apparitions and actuality. She tumbled to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut in desperation to be awoken from the dreaded nightmare. Terror building in her heart as she neared the rapidly approaching ground. She wasn't going to wake up. _Closer, and closer it came._ Because of the nightmare that wasn't a nightmare, but reality. And her reality was all but a horrible dream. There was no escape from this loop of hell known as her miserable life.

_Then came the end: this was it... a short drop... a sudden stop._

But then it wasn't. Light flooded her eyes and oxygen filled her lungs. The screaming disappeared, all feelings and sense of nothingness vanished. Her body moved without permission, twisting itself around as she fell. Coming out of a summersault, she hit the ground, rolling once before momentum threw her up onto her feet once more.

A soft "_whoa_," was whispered as the child stood up. _Did anyone see that? Because that was epic! And slightly terrifying, truth be told._

Glancing over to the shadow – who had shut down the sparing program – the whirlwind on emotions from what had just happened quickly dissipated, replaced with only one thought; _Oh crud. _Natasha's face grew apprehensive as she began twisting the hem of her shirt subconsciously, the warrior dude coming closer every second. And just like that, everything was gone.

"Umm... _privet_?"

_"Da, provet budet preumen ' shenive. Yes, hello would be an understatement," _the comment seemed to slip from his lips with such ease. As if falling pre-teens was an everyday thing.

"You okay?" He looked at her with a critical gaze, a single eye flitting over her body like he was scanning for injuries. _Jackpot mate. _Natasha caught what she thought was concern on his face, not fully masked within his steel-blue eye before his gaze became unreadable.

Nat wasn't completely sure how to answer that, so she settled for shrugging her shoulders. _I still have no idea what just happened._

"How're you feeling? That explosion did a number on you, kid." Nat racked her foggy memory for the man's name. _Will… Shane? No. _Concentrating on finding it only seemed to bring on a headache. Just as she decided to forget about it, however, his name came to her. It was Wilson. _Slade Wilson._

"Fine," came the mumbled response. _Why couldn't he just leave me alone? _she asked herself. Only for the logical side to argue back, _because if he did, then you would most certainly be dead, young one. _Okay, better question. Why did her subconscious sound like an old British guy?

Slade's face became one of slight amusement at the girls' feeble attempt at lying. She wasn't even trying to be convincing; merely saying what she thought he wanted to hear.

"Why don't I believe you, Natasha?" At the sound of that name, Nat pulled her shirt sleeves over her fingertips in uptight uncertainty. This guy made her so edgy. You know when you hear your parents use your full name and you know you're screwed? Like, hearing 'Percy' is all fine and dandy, but as soon as your mum screams 'Perseus Achilles Jackson' you know you're in deep. That was pretty much how Nat felt. Except she was an amnesiac trapped with a highly trained assassin, so… no stress.

"Thirteen hours ago, you were almost killed. There would be something seriously wrong with you if you _were _okay." He gave her a pointed look. Nat still refused to lift her gaze. _Nope, not doing it. The ground was much safer than his eye, thank you very much._

But then, nothing ever stayed how you wished, did it? Wilson came down to her eye level, using a single gloved finger, he forced her head up so that their eyes met. "Don't lie to me kid," his voice was low, almost inaudible, but it cut through the silence like a bullet. "I'll see through you like glass."

"Cracked glass maybe..." Wilson could tell the retort hadn't meant to come out, her panicked look was enough to attest to that. And as soon as it did, Natasha turned her face away, pulling out of his hold with her eyes squeezed shut. It was like she was expecting to be hit. But why would a child be afraid-

_Oh..._

Opting to stand back up and give Natasha some space, Slade considered the child for a long moment. "No one is going to hurt you anymore Tash," he said, affinity lacing his voice. "Kid, you crawled out of a smashed car with broken bones and glass sticking out of you, then proceeded to drag yourself half a klick away into the woods – _whilst bleeding profoundly_ – less than twenty-four hours ago. No one expects you to be alright." He sighed deeply and walked to a metal box set against the wall. "I'm just trying to help you."

Staring at the ground, Nat answered, somewhat reluctantly, "just a bit drowsy, sir."

"See? Easier than shooting straight." Wilson handed her a sports water bottle. The cool plastic made her fingers tingle as she accepted it. "It's just water, kid. Come on," he gestured for her to follow with a jerk of his head, "let's get some food into you."


	8. Chapter 6 - Saving Grace

**Chapter 6 – Saving Grace**

**14:20 Saturday, 7th October 2017**

Following the man up the winding staircase, Nat made sure to keep more than an arm's reach away from the man, just in case. The distance giving her the chance to run if it were made necessary. She hadn't thought about where she would run to, but that was beside the point. It was about the feeling of momentary security from knowing she was out of immediate harm's way.

Slade led Natasha down the hall and into the split kitchen and dining room. Getting out two plates, Slade gave one to Natasha and left his on the bench. He went to the fridge and pulled out a plastic red container, a pre-cooked meal inside. When Slade turned around the child was frozen solid. Leaning against the counter, she stared off into oblivion.

There was no response or sign that she had heard Slade calling to her. She was out of it. Slade approached cautiously, ready to defend himself if the kid was to strike out again. He had observed that tendency of Natasha's. Whenever she was startled, or even asleep, and someone approached her that she wasn't prepared for, she would instinctively fight back. She had attacked Slade multiple times whilst she was teetering on the edge of consciousness and completely comatose the past couple hours.

Slade reached out to bring her back to reality, fully expecting to be attacked by the girl. Natasha nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her back, dropping the glass plate in her panic. Her breathing hitched as the glass shattered on the floor before her. Shards pierced her skin as she stumbled backwards, trying to get away from Slade.

"Hey," Slade went to grab her, but Natasha jolted out of his grasp, falling onto the broken shards of glass.

_"No!"_

"Kid-"

Slade reached out to lift her up, he would have succeeded too, if she hadn't started thrashing around, kicking and punching anywhere she could reach. He knew this could happen, but he hadn't counted on her being so violent and self-destructive.

_"Nu. Nein. Net!"_ her screams got louder and more incoherent the closer Slade came. The language that she shouted in changed with every few words as if her mind was moving too fast and couldn't keep up. It was almost impossible to understand what she was saying.

_"Пожалуйста_ _остановись. मुझे माफ कर दो__, non ego melior tibi, 約束します__. Bitte! Συγγνώμη! Vă rog. Por favor..."_

[Please stop. I'm sorry, I'll do better, I promise. Please! I'm sorry. Please, please…]

"Natasha, enough," ordered Slade. But it was like she didn't even hear him. She was so absorbed in panic and fear that she had blocked everything else out.

When Slade bent down to restrain her, everything went to hell. The screaming grew louder, attacks wilder and more desperate. It was like nothing existed anymore. The rest of the world melted away as the panic-stricken child writhed in agony on the glass-covered floor. Glass shards piercing her skin and painting her hands red with blood.

Slade finally managed to keep hold of her arms, pulling one behind her back in an arm lock, restricting her movement. Slade felt the attacks against him double in strength, however this time, he was ready for it. Slade covered her mouth with one hand in an attempt to stifle the yelling. He knew that he could not to twist her arm any further without rebreaking it.

Nat managed to use her free arm to elbow his jaw, simultaneously, she dug her heel into his shin, effectively making the man drop her. More out of shock than anything else. The kid had good self-defence instincts, that was for certain. Slade stared in surprise at the child, eyes blood red and unfocused.

"Kid?" Slade straightened up as the screaming suddenly ceased. Natasha froze like a broken-down droid. Unmoving, unseeing, and unalive.

"Tash? Talk to me, kid. What's going on?" Red eyes slowly moved across the room, coming to meet Slade's single grey eye.

It was unnerving to look into a child's eyes and see nothing. An empty child. Innocence gone and hope destroyed. Not sign of free will nor the will to be free. Not a drop of life left in her entire body. She was an empty vessel forced to carry out the bidding of her masters. The very same people responsible for torturing her; for robbing her of her childhood and turning her into an emotionless killing machine.

Nat heaved in a jagged breath as if the hand of her past released her from its clutches. She crumbled to the floor and looked up at Slade. Slade could see nothing but fear in her eyes. The red irises that had possessed her; gone. Replaced by a dullness as she seemed to come back into the present. She shuffled backwards on the broken glass, hands visibly shaking in fear. Natasha could feel her skin getting sliced open a little more with each movement, but she didn't care.

She was numb with pain. The overwhelming sensation from before came back to her in full force. Every fragment and thought fighting for her attention. The fear, the memories, disembodied voices shouting at her in words she couldn't decipher. They wouldn't go away. They just wouldn't stop. Nat brought her bloodstained hands to her face, pressing them tightly against her ears as if that would halt the barrage of nonsensical noise.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it." Slade watched the child bring herself into a protective ball, rocking back and forth as she begged an invisible perpetrator to leave her alone.

Slade's brow furrowed at the sudden change in Natasha's personality. It was obvious that the child was exhausted. She wanted to give up. Her fingers moved from covering her ears to digging into the sides of her face. Approaching her with caution, he seized Nat by the wrists and lifted her off the ground. She didn't need any more scars on her face. Futile struggles persisted once more, but with little to no conviction.

"Natasha. Enough." The order ceased her struggles at once. She dropped her head and allowed herself to hang like a rag doll in his grasp.

"It's over," he told her, releasing most of the pressure her was enforcing on her wrists, he let her feet touch the ground.

"You're safe. You don't need to fight me." Slade pulled the child into a protective hold. With one arm around her back, and the other encasing her head, she was trapped. Weak fists attempted to force her way out but eventually gave in to the warmth and comfort these two strong arms offered.

"You don't have to run anymore. You're safe now," he repeated. "Everything's going to be okay," he continued to murmur reassuring words against her ear. With a final look at Slade, Natasha went limp in his arms, collapsing against Slade as her legs gave in. Eyes rolling to the back of her head, she passed out.

"So much for lunch," said Slade, lifting her up. He walked down the hall with the child resting in his arms. It was worrying how light she was. It wasn't right. Her ribs could be felt poking out from under her clothes. The kid was just skin and bone. Slade placed her down on the infirmary bed, hooking up the heart monitor and another IV drip just to be safe. He made a mental note to make sure the girl ate a sufficient amount of food when she woke up; she would fade away at this rate.

"Blasted kid's gonna give me grey hair." Slade watched as the girl lay, stock-still, almost like a corpse, she remained unmoving. Only her face, contorting into displays of emotion brought on by her dreams, showed that her heart remained beating.

15:24 Tuesday, 27th May 2008

_Danika, messy shoulder-length hair bounced as she ran next to her older sister, Alexios. A girl who looked more Mediterranean than Russian. She had long hair that reached her lower back, browns and blonds mixed in with each other as golden streaks stood out in the early morning sunlight, the beach-waves making it impossible to tell is the hair was messy or as it was supposed to be. The eight and nine-year-old sisters ran through the barren streets, trying to make it into the city as to avoid disruptions. They just needed to make it to Anatoly, and they would be safe._

_"Der'mo," she cursed under her breath. The longer they stayed in the country, the closer the KGB came to finding them._

_The girls ducked behind a cart just in time to avoid being impaled by led. That was too close. All they wanted to do was escape some crazy terrorist organisation and leave Russia for good. Was that too much to ask?_

_Another rain of bullets assaulted the area Lexi and her sister took cover in. Apparently, it was, if the four soldiers attacking them had anything to say about it._

_"Alexei," Danika tugged on her sister's hand. She turned away from the assailants, ducking down beside her sister._

_"We gotta move."_

_"Yeah, you don't say." Danya pointed to an old, run-down building which probably use to be for living space, at least fifteen stories high._

_"Danya, you're a genius. Let's get lost." Alexei stood up first, pulling her hood over her head as she moved out from behind the cart they had used as cover. Danya waited a few moments before following her sisters lead._

_The two girls made a dash for the building. When the slammed the old doors shut, backs to the outside world, they saw two staircases, one to the left and one to the right, in secluded columns. Locking eyes with one another, a competitive grin flashed across their faces. Just because they were fugitives on the run didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves. What was the point of fighting for their lives if they weren't going to live them? Without a word spoken, they dashed off in opposite directions. Sprinting up the staircases with the speed and agility of the highly trained assassins that they were, not a sound was made as the race to the roof endured. _

_Alexei started to get the feeling that maybe the abandoned building wasn't so abandoned after all, when an English looking archer dude in a black and purple suit stepped in front of her, unintentionally blocking Alexei's way. Alexei would have run into the man, too, if he hadn't have caught her by the arms. Her eyes widened slightly when her feet left the ground, swinging past the man. He let her go and spoke to her in Russian, though Lexi could tell it was not his native tongue._

"Whoa!"_ the English phrase slipped out of his mouth in surprise as she was lifted off the ground slightly. "Hey, kid, why are you running?"_

_"Racing my sister to the top," Lexi replied, a cheery and carefree tone in her voice. The man looked at her, eyes widening as the words translated in his head._

"No, no-no-no," _he said in English,_ "this is bad." _Yup, definitely American. That accent was impossible to miss._

'Danya, stop!' _Lexi thought over her mind link. _'We have company, lay low.'

'Yeah, I found them – Russians. KGB by the looks of them,' Danya's worried voice sounded in Alexei's head. 'They haven't seen me yet.'

"Good, keep it that way. I've been compromised by an American, eighth floor.' Lexi looked around to see the man clad in purple gesturing for her to follow.

_"What's going on?" Alexei called after the brown-haired American, following him through the building. He ran into a room with a woman who looked like an older version of Danya. Definitely Russian origin. Dark red hair – curly. Same piercing green eyes. She was wearing a black combat suit, the same bird-looking symbol on her right side as the man. American organisation; enemy of KGB (who were two storeys above them, according to Danika); most likely their only plausible way out of the desolate country. Brilliant._

"Tasha," _he said, looking at Alexios,_ "we got a problem."

_The woman, 'Tasha' looked up from the device in her hands, eyes locking onto swirling orbs. Alexei had to suppress the urge to squirm under the calculating look the woman gave her. Like she could see into her very soul. Alexei had the feeling that, with one look, this woman could discover all of her secrets. Her past brought back into the light. That was not something that she needed to happen. Not thank you._

_"Who's this?" the question was asked in Russian, which Lexi was thankful for. It wasn't that she couldn't speak English; she could. But the less these people knew about them, the better._

_"Oh, I am Azrael Sokolov. My sister is Koriand'r," Lexi looked between the Americans. "We were racing to the roof…" she didn't get further than that before the woman barked out an order in English, racing around to gather the few pieces of scattered equipment._

_"Azrael? You need to stay here. The KGB is taking kids off the streets. We'll get your sister if they have her, but we need you out the way."_

_"No. If my sister is in danger, I have to be there for her." Alexei looked towards the American, "I can handle myself."_

_The woman tossed a handgun to the American male without looking. "Can you use this?" he asked, proffering the firearm to the Russian street kid. Alexei reached for the weapon with her left hand, scanning it once._

_The American was about to show Alexei how to switch off the safety and hold the gun properly, when she opened the mag, nodded once before clipping it in with the palm of her hand. She turned off the safety while looking towards the door she had entered not three minutes ago. He watched in concern as Alexei loaded the gun, twirling it in her hands twice before looking back to the adults._

_The American caught his partner's eye, suppressing a smirk and shook his head at the sight before him._

"Crazy Russians…"_ he whispered to himself in English. He turned to Lexi, "when we get up there, as soon as your sister's free, grab her and go. Protect yourself and your sister. Stay out of the way; we'll handle this." Silently, the group made their way up the last two flights of stairs to the rundown roof. Alexei hung back as the woman dubbed as 'Tasha' kicked the door down, sending off a quick round as she dove for cover._

_"Stay behind me at all times," the American reminded Alexei, glancing over his shoulder at her as he notched an arrow in his bow, four more residing in his hand. "And do exactly as I say."_

_He rounded the corner, arrows hitting the KGB agents square in the chest. Alexei followed him out, scanning the make-shift battlefield as she lifted the gun. With deadly accuracy, Lexi fired off seven bullets quick succession, each one incapacitating their target. Acting fast was the only way they were going to win this, strike before the enemy has the chance to strike back. Lexi caught Tasha's eye, about to call out to her, but was stopped when excruciating pain exploded in her abdomen. Eyes wide in pain, Alexei felt her legs give out, falling to the ground as stars swarmed her vision._

'Danya…'


	9. Chapter 7 - You're Not Going to Die

**Chapter 7 – You're Not Going to Die While You Owe Me A Favour**

**15:24 Tuesday, 27th May 2008**

_An ear-piercing scream brought Lexi out of her daze. Danya was in trouble. Lexi saw her sister collapsed in a heap on the other side of the roof. She forced herself up, locking her eyes on Danya. That little girl was her best friend; her only family. And someone dared to hurt her. They would have hell to pay. _

_Three agents approached her, all with blank faces and identical uniforms. Alexios shot the first one in the knee as she charged at him. Using his shoulders as a springboard, she threw herself into the air, twisting her make-shift perch as she pushed off him, forcing the man to collapse under her grasp. Lexi landed a fist on the second man's face, legs hooking around his neck as she choked him dead in one move. She flung herself off the limp body, flipping in the air once, she kicked the third man to the ground. Lexi's hand slithered to her boot as she flipped. Sliding out a small dagger, she held it in an ice-pick grip, embedded it in the third man's chest. _

_Alexei looked up through a curtain of hair, her eyes a raging storm of fire and flood. Anger radiated off the child in waves. She yanked her dagger out of the dead man's torso; she was out for blood. Alexei tore her way through the assassins, killing anyone who dared to stand in her way. Alexei appeared to be nothing more than a blur of movement. Leaving a trail of death and destruction in her wake. _

_The assassins finished off the KGB agents near them and turned to watch the child in bewilderment. It seemed that nothing would stand in that little girl's way of getting to her sister. The American stood dumbfounded off to the side as a child single-handedly took out twenty plus KGB assassins, with barely more than a scratch here and there. It was chilling to watch such a young child fight and kill so mercilessly and without hesitation. With a start, the American remembered where he recognised Azrael's fighting style. He had seen his partner, Natasha, perform the exact same moves throughout the years. He was brought out of his thoughts by the eerie silence that followed the brutal battle scene. Everyone was dead. _

_After finishing off the last of the KGB agents, Azrael ran to her sister. She pulled her into a bone-crushing hug for a brief moment before helping her stand. With support from her older sister, the younger girl was able to stand. Tasha spotted an injury on the younger sister; her leg had been damaged. She was keeping most weight on the opposite leg, a streak of blood ran down the other. Azrael only sported a few cuts and scrapes, as well as a bloody nose that she seemed completely oblivious to. The two spoke in hushed voices. The American picked up a few words here and there, but none of them made sense to him. Tasha looked at her partner and held up four fingers, mouthing a few words to him in English. _

_After listening to the girls whisper back and forth in what sounded like gibberish, she had realised that it was actually a mix between multiple languages. Russian. German. Latin. Greek. This made it practically impossible to decipher what they were saying, as they switched so rapidly and easily. The mix of tongues came so fluidly to them, it seemed as if it could be a single language, natively spoken by the children. There was never a stutter or falter as they conversed. _

_The two adults walked over to the sisters. The younger of the pair looked worse for wear, the older; as if she could take on an army. The Russian woman narrowed her eyes slightly when the younger child seemed to flinch in pain. She brought her hand to her abdomen and seemed to lean a little heavier on the older girl. The child was more injured than she had previously thought. _

_"Are you alright?" Barton asked in Russian, thick American accent coating the words. He received two small nods, but no vocal confirmation. _Liars.

_"Has this happened before?" the redhead woman asked. "How long have these people been after you?"_

_The littlest girl, Koriand'r, she remembered her name was, looked at Azrael. Her sister gave a small nod in confirmation to the unasked request for permission. Koriand'r gave a small nod, "they never really stop." _

_Tasha was momentarily stunned to the brutally honest response. If her hunch was correct, there was more to these girls than met the eye. _

_"We were trying to get to a… friend," Azrael had spoken this time. She seemed to falter over the last word, unsure of what to refer to this person as. "He's Bratva. He will help us."_

_"You won't be safe with him," The Russian spoke, her voice was steady and certain. "The only way for you to be safe and out of KGB's reach is if you leave the county." Tasha watched in sympathy as the girls visibly flinched at the word. Definitely KGB kids. Most likely raised and trained in the Red Room. Their fighting style was so much like her own it was uncanny. But despite all their training, they were just scared children in a dangerous world. _

_An onslaught of bullets halted the conversation. The American dove for cover, pulling the children with him as he went. His partner jumped into action and returned fire as she joined them. Alexei and Danya's faces were one of horror and fear. Thirty agents against a rage-filled assassin were one thing, but there seemed to be double the agents now. With Kori injured and Lexi exhausted from the fight, winning seemed hopeless. Escaping was even less likely. _

_"Come with us. We can protect you." Tasha's sharp words were met with protest. They were assassins; murderers. This was another government organisation. They would not swap one form of slavery and imprisonment for another. _

_Tasha continued to lay down cover fire with her partner watching the young runaways. Danya had lost an extensive amount of blood, teetering on the verge of unconsciousness in her sister's arms. Alexei's face was desperate; she clutched her sister tight; her breathing was short and shallow. There was nowhere to go._

_"Kid, do you have a better option? We can keep you safe!" Alexei finally looked up at the American's words. Blue eyes met blue._

_"Do you wanna live? Cause I wanna live." He waited for her to nod before continuing. These children were afraid, yes, but they were not suicidal. "Then come with us."_

_Everything passed as a blur to Alexei. They escaped off the roof, she remembered that much. She knew the American took her sister out of her arms, holding her with one arm around her shoulders, the other hooked under her knees. They got in a van and drove off. Lexi blacked out twice through the drive. Her mind refused to function. One minute they were standing on the outskirts of the city, the next, on the ramp of a ship. Alexios didn't have time to process what was happening as she was guided onto the ship, not that could she protest or run away, as the man still had her sister._

_Alexei felt her sister stir through their connection. The American noticed this also, setting her down on her feet. Lexi rushed to her side, helping her sit down despite her injuries. Alexei paid no notice when another person entered the room. She only looked up at the English command that came from the newcomer._

"Split them up. Take her to a holding cell."

_Without hesitation, the Russian woman grabbed Lexi's bicep and forced her to stand. The man who gave the order, also American, held onto Lexi's sister, seizing her arms in a tight hold. _

Hell no.

_"Azrael!" a terror-filled scream ripped out of the eight-year old's mouth; eyes wide as she was pulled away from her older sister._

_"Kori!"_ _desperation clear on the older girls' face. "No! Kori!"_ _The two girls fought viciously against the people holding them as they were dragged in opposite directions. "Leave her alone!"_

_"Azrael!" t__he younger of the two, was lifted off the ground by a man with dark hair in a suit. Kicking and screaming, he dragged her away. _

_Alexios took a shuddering breath, forcing herself to stay in control, for her sister's sake at least. "Breathe, Kori. Stay calm." She caught her sisters gaze, _"I promise Koriand'r, I will get us out of here,"_ the vow was spoken in Greek, much to the confusion of the other occupants in the room. _

_Alexei stopped struggling and dropped her head once her sister was out of sight. It was no use. She wouldn't be going anywhere without her in any case. No way in hell would she leave Danya behind again. They got into this mess together and they would escape together._

_Alexei allowed herself to be taken away, ignoring the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach as she was guided down a bright hallway. They were already in hell, what's the worst that could happen? The Russian woman from earlier escorted her down the grey hallway, lights blinding her as she went. Leading her into a cell-like-room, she left without saying a word, closing a heavy door behind her. The distinct sound of a lock resounded through the room seconds later. _

_Locked. She was trapped._

_Natasha Romanoff met her partner Clint Barton, Commander Maria Hill and Agent Phil Coulson in the cockpit. So much for a clean pick-up. The four conversed in English, now finally away from the Russian children._

_"The kids are sisters." The comment wasn't directed to anyone in particular. "The KGB is after them."_

_"Are you sure?" Coulson turned to face the assassin. _

_"Positive. I saw their mark burned into Azrael's arm." She looked at her partner who was giving her a strange face and shrugged nonchalantly, "her sleeve was ripped."_

_"They were running away, Coulson." Clint shared a look with Nat, "restraining them wasn't necessary."_

_"They are unknown threat to SHIELD–"_

_"They're just kids. Anything that's happening to them isn't their fault."_

_"They're dangerous, Barton," Maria Hill, who had been observing until this time, spoke up. "You don't know what they're capable of."_

_"They could be working with HYDRA." _

_"Or they could be running for their lives." Clint stood up and walked to the door, "don't condemn them 'till you've heard them out."_

_"Where're you going?" Natasha asked._

_"Someone's gotta make sure they're still alive."_

'Danya?' _Lexi thought, concentrating on her sister's presence. The faint connecting was dormant but was still there._ 'Danya, are you alright?'

_There was a long moment of silence where Alexei started to think that maybe her sisters' condition had deteriorated. If she couldn't even think straight… well, Lexi tried not to think about that possibility. Twenty agonising seconds later, a spike of pain shot through the link._

'Well,' _came the disgruntled response._ 'I'm alive if that's what you mean.'

'How are you holding up?'

'Ugh, dying inside?'

'Just hang on,' _Alexei scanned the room. Only one exit. Not even an air vent to escape in. _'Lower your heart rate down; that'll slow the poison's spread.'

'Yeah, easier said than done, sis.'

'Just lie down; try to meditate. Control your feelings. We can't afford you to lose control again.'

_There was a pause, then_ 'I'll try.'

'No. "Do, or do not, there is no try".'

'Don't quote Star Wars to me when I'm in the middle of dying.'

'Don't die while I'm quoting Star Wars. And don't be so melodramatic. 'Tis but a _scratch_. You'll be fine. Besides, you can't die when you owe still me a favour.' _Lexi meant it as a joke, but the underlying fear in her was hoping her sister took some reassurance from her promise. Or maybe she was trying to convince herself that she'd make it through._

'_Don't_ sugar-coat it, Lex,' _another wave of pain shot through their mental link. _'I can feel the venom flowing through my blood.'

'So can I,' _Lexi sat up against the closest wall, clearing her mind of any thoughts other than her sister. _'I'm trying to stop it but it's hard when I'm not next to you.'

_Approaching footsteps disturbed her concentration, _"Chert, damn," _she cursed softly. The exclamation being heard vocally and mentally._ 'Someone's coming.'

_Alexei felt the link go dormant once more as the door opened. A wave of nausea hit her like heatwave in summer. Danika was in trouble. Something warm slowly rolled out of her nose. Her second nosebleed in so many hours. The crimson red contrasting with her deathly pale skin. The metallic taste on her lips unpleasant, but not foreign to the sisters in the slightest. _

_When Clint Barton entered the room where Azrael was being held, a concerning silence greeted him. The child was curled up in the corner, eyes squeezed tightly shut, hands clutching her head. Blood dripping out of her nose._

"Far out, Azrael!"_ Clint exclaimed in English, rushing over, hand reaching first to her neck to check her pulse._

Thu-thud. Thu-thud. Thu-thud.

_It was fast and erratic, but there. _

_"Kid, can you hear me?" He reached for his commlink and spoke through the open channel, "Guys, we've got a situation down here." Clint reached out and wiped some of the blood from her face with a finger. _

_"It hurts…" the noise was barely more than a whimper. Clint looked at the girl's face, there was practically no colour in her cheeks. Something was seriously wrong. _

_Clint leaned closer to Azrael, worry increasing with every passing moment. "Azrael? Talk to me. What's wrong?"_

_"She's dying." Lexi looked up at the American assassin. She opened her mouth to speak again, but no words came out as she curled back in on herself, crying out in pain. _

_Clint moved her hands away from her torso, expecting to find an injury. _

"What the…?" his confusion was evident, but Lexi had much more pressing matters to deal with than this man's comprehension of the situation.

_"Not me, idiot: my sister!" the harsh words penetrated his skull, slowly sinking in._

_Clint was momentarily stumped with what to do. He had a child crying and telling him that her sister was dying and that she could feel her pain. In training, no one ever specified how to deal with pain conveying through a mental link._

_Clint's comm came to life, the voice of his best friend floating through, _"Clint, get down here. Koriand'r has been stabbed. Something else is wrong though; she won't stop screaming."

_He wasted no time gathering the child up in his arms and racing off to the other holding cell where the young sister resided. When he entered, he saw Natasha bent over Kori, blood staining her hands as she put pressure on her abdomen. _

"You brought the other one?"

_Clint ignored her confusion and set Azrael down by her sister. _"Whatever is happening to that one is affecting them both."

_The assassins stayed silent as they observed the children, Natasha still keeping pressure on the stab wound. What could be done? The older of the two lifted herself into a sitting position, knocking Nat out of the way as she jumped to her sister's aid. _

"I need water."_ The demand was quiet and spoken in English, but the urgency in her voice made Agent Barton rush off without a second thought. Despite the immense pain she was in, Kori looked at her sister and whispered in Russian. And Natasha Romanoff, being Russian born and raised, listened-in curiously. _

_"No, don't do it. I'm not worth it. Don't let them see," __the nervousness in her voice grew more prominent. Her breathing was laboured and uneven. Skin growing paler by the second._

_"Hush now, Morning Star. I'm going to save you. I promised, didn't I? I don't care what happens to me."_

_A sad smile broke through her brave façade, "I know."_

_"I can't hold it back forever, sister. Just as you know you cannot hide your whole life. Don't let fear control you."_ _Romanoff watched the sisters interact, understanding their bond and worry for each other. They were all they had. _

_Romanoff shushed her partner when he ran back into the room, a container filled with water in his hands. Azrael's eyes were closed in concentration. Her sister's life hanging in the balance and this blundering idiot just staggers in. _

_Sensing the presence of a body of water, Alexei reached out with her senses, feeling the familiar tug in her gut as the water responded to her commands. The water encased her hands, an eerie white glow emanating from the liquid._

_She held one hand steady over the wound, the other moved back and forth along Kori's body. The blood that surrounded her seemed to move backwards, flowing back into its owner's limp body. A green light appeared under her skin, following wherever the second hand went. _

_At some point, Alexei's hands started to shake from the strain of manipulating poison like she was, she was extending herself beyond her limits. But still, she pressed on. Alexios closed her eyes, feeling the poison flowing through her sister's body. She focused on the feeling, controlling and bending the evil substance to her will. When she felt it was all gathered, Lexi extracted it through the knife wound, sending it to the container the water had arrived in. _

_With most of the strain gone, Lexi took a deep, cleansing breath and summoned the healing properties of the water, willing it to restore her sister. She was partially aware of the two agents watching her as she performed magic surgery on her little sister, but no longer had the energy to care. _

_With the gash in her sister's side closed, she fell back, head banging against the wall softly, the taxing process drained her of almost all her strength._

"And, they've got powers. Great," _was the last thing Alexei heard before the world around her turned cold and black._


	10. Chapter 8 - Fallen

**Chapter 8 – Fallen**

**07:20 Sunday, 8th October 2017**

The first conscious thought Nat had was that she was lying on a cloud; unbelievable softness below her with warmth pressing down from above. She never wanted to move. Where was she again? Nat traced her memories back as far as she could remember. A dull numbness overcoming her as the memories flooded her senses. _The Ryans were attacked. She ran away. No survivors. All her fault. The man from the forest!_ Eyes snapping open with a start, Nat forced herself not to panic at the medical design of the room.

Taking a few shaky breaths to steady her nerves, Nat pushed the covers off her legs and sat up. She was in a slightly different colouration of the same clothes as before, meaning she was almost definitely still with Wilson. Okay, she could deal with that. The room was almost pitch black, save for the light coming from a screen. A steady rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound she could make out. Nat crawled to the edge of the bed and slid her feet to the ground. As she stood up, a section in the dark wall across from her opened, light flooding in through the open door. Slade Wilson stood in the entrance.

"You really need to eat this time, kid."

With nothing else to do, Nat rose to her feet, pulling the needle out of her arm and unstrapping the device around her bicep and followed Wilson out of the room and down the hall, ignoring all the alarm bells going off in her head as she went. Natasha set her mind to autopilot as she walked, allowing her mind to wander.

Why she got strange vibes off this man, she didn't know. They weren't 'immediate danger' vibes either, more like a cautionary warning or something. He didn't seem evil, per se, but he had this dark aura surrounding him. Blackness surrounded his heart. She felt as if her mind was trying to warn her, that there was something familiar about the man, something far more than just the Shadow that had watched over her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the clinking of glass and wood. She blinked twice, startled, and saw a plate of food on the table before her. Nat saw Wilson standing beside her out of the corner of her eye. It took a few moments for her to register that he was waiting for her.

Sliding into the seat, she decided to eat now and ask questions later, Natasha remained silent as she ate for the first time in almost two days. She cautiously tried the meal (chicken with rice and veggies), and after concluding that she wasn't going to die from food poisoning, Nat hungrily devoured everything on her plate.

Unable to continue to sit in silence with nothing left to do any longer, Nat place the fork she had been twisting in her fingers on her now clear plate. Wilson finally turned his attention to her.

"Better?" he asked. Natasha nodded mutely, unable to voice her questions. Rolling the words over in her mind, she finally mustered up the will to ask what had been eating at her since _it_ happened.

"Where am I?" she finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. She kept her eyes averted.

"Someplace safe."

"That's not an answer and you know it." She said, anger rising in her chest. She hated being treated like a child. After everything that she had been through you'd think that they would have the courtesy to treat her like an adult. "Tell me where I am."

"It is not important."

"Like hell, it's not – you kidnapped me!" Natasha jumped out of her seat, hot with rage at this man. "Who the hell are you? I'm supposed to be under the protection of Agent Henderson. And if something happens to him, I'm meant to go to HQ."

"Kid-"

"You say you're here to protect me, but you won't even tell me where I am! How do I know you're not working with Hydra? How do I know you didn't kill the Ryans and blow up the car? If you expect me to just sit here like an obedient little dog who obeys your every command, then you're _freakin_' _delusional_."

"Natasha, you need to calm down." The man was finally up and out of his seat, slowly advancing towards the screaming child.

"People have died, Wilson. They died!" Natasha was heaving in shallow breaths as her temper defused. She had no energy left to shout. White-hot anger slowly left her veins, simmering into a terrible pain inside her chest.

"And you don't even care. They were the closest I've ever been to having a real family! And now they're gone… they can't come back. Not ever. And I'm left alone, again. I have nothing left, Wilson. _Nothing_. So, _don't_ you dare treat me like a child, not after this."

Natasha headed for the door, not looking back at the stoic man left behind and whispered. "_I wish I had died in that explosion."_

Slade watched as Natasha ran out of the room and listened to where she went. Downstairs, that would be good for her. He stood up to clear the table and kitchen, washing everything up before checking the security cameras in the training area. Slade was glad to see the kid taking her frustrations out on a punching bag. He closed his phone and left for his room, planning on giving the kid an hour or so to cool off before he went to talk to her again. Her temper was going to become a serious problem is she didn't learn to control herself. This was going to be harder than he expected.

Nat didn't know where exactly she was running, not away – she didn't even know where the exit was. She found herself descending the spiral staircase into the massive room from the previous day. Swinging under the railing, Nat made her way to the rafters above the room.

With all thought of personal safety gone, Natasha began doing flips on the beams; running, jumping, twisting, and landing perfectly. If she died, then she would finally be released from this living hell. All of this went over her head, however, from the anger that clouded her vision. It seemed as if time slowed down when she dove off a central beam – she could breathe again. Finally, a moment of clarity. Ducking into a role at the last second, Natasha absorbed the shock on the landing, jumping to her feet with a little help from momentum.

A punching bag hanging innocently off to the side caught Nat's eye. The black and orange pattern standing out against the navy training floor. Bounding over to the bag, Nat leapt on top of it, legs hooking either side of the chain, she let herself hang upside down against the gently swaying bag.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she groaned quietly. "What did I ever do to you?" Natasha glared ahead of her, looking at the upside-down entrance of the massive room. _Screw it._

When the random blackening and regaining of her vision became too irritating with to the blood rushing to her head, Nat groaned loudly, sliding off the bag upside down, using her hands to take her weight and gently lower herself to the ground.

_Her fault._

Everything that had happened was her fault. David, Laura, Giselle, Jacen, Cian; Their blood was on her hands. It was her fault they were dead. Why did everything bad always have to happen to her? Couldn't the fates choose someone else's life to destroy?

_Her fault._

Natasha rolled onto her back and screamed out in frustration until her lungs ran out of oxygen; hands clawing at her face to stop them shaking from anger. She laid still while she heaved a few deep breaths, as if that would change anything.

_All her fault._

She breathed out a resigned sigh before getting up. _What's done is done; it cannot be undone._ Rolling over her shoulder backwards, Nat sprung to her feet, attacking the punching bag with rage in her eyes. Every kick and punch connected. Every strike causing her pain, but that only pushed Nat to keep going. It didn't matter that it hurt. _She deserved it. It was all her fault._

Entering the training room without alerting the kid was easier than it should have been. She was so distracted and caught up in the moment that she had blocked everything else out. Slade was mildly surprised to see Natasha still mauling away at the punching bag after two hours, that took a lot of stamina. Eyeing the blood marks on the bag, Slade moved his gave to her hands, tightly balled in fists with blood coating her fingers. That the kid had split her knuckles and either hadn't noticed or was too upset to care.

Detouring slightly to a side of the room where the mini-fridge and medical cabinet sat, Slade grabbed two long rolls of bandages, a cloth and a bottle of water. He walked over to Natasha, still punching away at the bag, dried and fresh blood covering her hands.

"Hey," he called from right behind her. _"Hey," _Slade put a hand on her shoulder and turned her towards himself. "Kid, stop."

Natasha's chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She kept her gaze locked on the floor. Slade knew that he was not going to get anything out of her, so he pushed his interrogative questions to the back of his mind. He knelt in front of the girl and poured enough water on the cloth to soak it. Slade seized one of her hands and began wiping the blood off her skin, careful not to cause any additional pain.

Nat stood in stunned silence, hatred and frustration gnawing away at her from the inside out. Even after everything she had said to him, here he was helping her without reason nor obligation. Natasha followed with her eyes as the blood-stained rag was discarded on the navy floor. Wilson took hold of one of her wrists again, hooking the starting loop over Nat's left thumb and began methodically wrapping her hand and wrist in a boxing fashion. Going through each finger to protect her knuckles from the brutal force exerted on them. Once both her hands were wrapped, Slade shaped her hands into fists, pressing his palms against her covered hands.

"Better?" he asked. Nat finally lifted her gaze to meet his eye, confusion and anger swirling around inside brown orbs. At the child's uncertain nod, Slade held his hands up an arm's length away from her face. When she didn't move, Slade reached forward with his right hand, guiding her left hand through the proper motion of a strike, twisting her wrist over at the last moment before the hit landed on his open palm.

"Most of the power in a punch comes from your hips." Nat's eyes widened slightly in understanding, Wilson was, well… training her. He reached forward to take control of Natasha's other hand. "Use your stance to move through the strike. Twist-up your hips and let your shoulder go back." Nat did as she was instructed, allowing herself to be led through the movements.

"Flow into the punch, feel the power that comes through the motions. Start with your thumb facing upwards; untwist it at the last second. Have your arm lax until then. You tense as you make contact so you're not wasting energy." Slade moved his hands back as targets and watched in satisfaction as Natasha took in his teachings and produced an almost perfect attack over and over again.

"Good. Now keep that form but hold your hands in guarding. There's not as far to twist, but the principle is the same." He repositioned her guard to protect her face more. The kid was a fast learner who knew what she was doing. But over a year of living in the system had rusted over her skills. Now she would have the chance to flourish. Finally, be who all that she was meant to be.

"Don't over commit to your punches." A raised eyebrow told Slade that he had reached a point that had not been explained. "Doing continuous strikes like this – you need to pull back in time for the next one. If you overcommit it means you're falling through the hit instead of stopping it. You lose your power and your control – hit again," Nat did, and let out a startled cry when her punch was blocked, and she was flipped to the ground. Natasha was left staring at the ceiling, frozen in shock. Slade stood up and then gripped her bandaged hand, hauling her up beside him.

"– and can easily be knocked off balance. Don't punch through your target. Hit it and pull back." Natasha nodded her head in understanding, seemingly eager to continue their lesson. Kneeling in front of the child once more, Slade gestured for Nat to keep going.

"You're doing well, kid. Just punch harder now." Nat complied, putting more force into her fists as she disappeared into her mind to the steady rhythm, the pattern implanted in her head. _Jab, jab-punch, punch, punch-jab-punch, repeat._

Slade and Nat worked through techniques and sequences for a while longer. Slade wanted Natasha to work through her anger, not bottle it up. It would do her no good to lose control. She needed stability, not insanity. She would destroy herself given the chance. Punishing herself for things that she had no control over but still felt responsible for. There was only so much she could handle before she lost control.

He only zoned back into Natasha's technique when he felt her punches getting gradually harder. "Kid, calm down," Slade said to her, yet it was as if she couldn't hear him. Blood had soaked through the white bandages, but Nat didn't seem to be able to feel it. She just kept going.

"Tash, stop. That's enough, kid." Slade reached forward and took hold of her shoulders, shaking her lightly to wake her up. "You need to calm down. It's over. Getting angry won't change anything."

Nat took a step away from Slade, easily pulling out of his grip. "I came down here to beat out my frustrations. _You're_ the one teaching me how to fight," she shouted, accusation lacing her voice.

Slade stood up slowly, his towering height looming over Natasha. Behind the emotionless façade, Slade was troubled at the way Natasha retreated slightly as he approached. There was a falter in her step as she moved backwards, creating just over an arm's length in between the two. She was afraid of him. That would make it that much harder to do his job.

Slade doubted that Natasha even realised she had backed away. She seemed to do it instinctively; when he reached out to her before, she was within arm's distance. When she was scared or felt threatened, she moved a safe distance away. Slade recalled it happening more and more now that he knew what he was looking for. When she regained consciousness, leaving the training room and before she had a panic attack and passed out. _Dammit_, the kid was more skittish than a mouse. Slade didn't move any closer to Natasha, if she needed distance between them to feel safe, then he wasn't about to deny her that. Slade needed her to trust him, not fear him.

"Kid… this isn't about learning how to throw a punch. This is about learning control." At these words, Natasha's fists unfurled, visibly losing tension in her body. Anger has a short fuse; it runs on emotions. When the emotional high runs out, reason takes its place. Slade maintained his calm demeanour as he spoke to her. He couldn't afford to let her lose control.

"Being in control of your emotions is imperative for you, kid. Control over mind and body. Never let emotion cloud your head: never let reason rule your heart." Eventually, Natasha dropped her head and closed her eyes, appearing to finally soak up his words.

"If you aren't careful, people will get hurt. And I know you don't want to hurt anybody. You're a good kid Natasha, but you have to let people in. I can't help you if keep fighting me."

Natasha knew that she shouldn't have gone off at the man, it was stupid and irrational, but it was just so hard to keep everything in all the time. And then Wilson was just silent after Nat went off at him, which was way worse than if he had just hit her. At least she knew how to deal with that. This? This was scarier than any reaction she had witnessed in a long time. He just stood there silently as his single eye bore into her very soul. Nat shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back over and over as she waited for Wilson to say something.

Nat expected him to get angry at her, or yell, or hit her or _something_. Anything other than what he was doing. Natasha could feel her heart slowing down just from his calm demeanour. Why couldn't he just go off at her? Get frustrated and yell at her? Telling her that is was all her fault. Because it was. She knew that. It would always be her fault because _she_ wasn't there to save them. Their deaths were on her.

So why did he have to be so placid? It would have made things so much easier if he had gone off his rocker at her. That way she wouldn't've had to face him. Wouldn't have to see the disappointment in his eye. It was Wilson's lack of antagonistic behaviour that calmed Natasha down. It was because of him that she had to feel things. Things she didn't want to feel anymore.

The sadness of losing someone that you care about, the fear that it would happen again; emptiness gnawing away inside of her. All of her emotions that had been suppressed over the last two day, and really, the last couple of years, all came back at once. All the pain flooding her senses, chocking her under the crushing pressure of her entire life, weighing down on her as she carried the world on her shoulders.

Natasha wanted to say something, anything, but her mouth was too dry to speak, nor could she find the words to express what was going on inside her mind. She hung her head, unable to look into Wilson's single soul-searching eye any longer. When Nat felt her breathing finally regulate, she heard Wilson speak. His tone was soft and didn't hold an ounce of anger. He was just kind. Wisdom and understanding radiated from his words as he spoke.

"You're angry – that's okay. You're eleven, you've been through hell and back and you are still fighting. You're allowed to be mad, Natasha. But don't let your anger consume you. Control it, channel it, and use it. That's what I'm trying to teach you, kid. Patience and control."

Natasha wanted to look at him, speak to him, something… but she couldn't bring herself to. Overwhelming grief had stolen her will to live.

"You are haunted by your past. The only way to bury that ghost is by forgiving yourself."

Natasha's head shot up with a start, surprised by his blatant claim. "H-how?" she swallowed once, forcing herself to speak. "You want me to forgive myself?" Nat shook her head in disbelief.

_"You're crazy."_

"You blame yourself for everything that has happened. You foster family died and you weren't there to save them." Natasha's teeth began working away at her lip, biting it between her teeth as her brow furrowed in shame. How could he speak of that without an ounce of emotion? "But you need to understand that there was nothing you could have done."

"How do you know?" the question came out as a whisper, strength steadily gaining as she continued to speak. Nat's hands gestured wildly as she spoke aloud the worries plaguing her mind.

"Maybe if I was there, I could have done something. Could've gotten there faster. If I hadn't had been so selfish then they would all still be here! Maybe if I had just… If I was dead, they would still be alive." she heaved a deep sigh, _"This was all my fault…"_

"If you had been there you would have been taken and killed, and if not, then at least turned back into Hydra's slave. It was not your fault."

"But they were targeted because of _me_. Because _I_ stayed with them."

"Yes, they were. But they knew when they were getting into, at least indirectly. They knew the risks and they didn't care because they loved you."

"I'm such an _idiot_! If I hadn't made a big deal out being moved again, I wouldn't have been there long enough for Hydra to track me, and everyone would still be alive!" _How could she have done this? Why did this have to happen, to them? Why them?_

"You can't change the past Natasha. No matter how much you wish you could, there's no going back. You have got to put your past behind you."

"You think I don't know that? I have watched everything in my life be broken down: my entire world crumble down around me as I stand there, helpless to save it." Her bottom lip began to tremble, her voice wavering in strength as she spoke. "You don't know what it's like to lose everything. You know _nothing._ I can _never_ see them again. I miss them so much, but they can't come back… They're gone! _And it's all my fault."_

"Buddy, I know you're angry, I know it hurts. Believe me, _I know..._" Slade lifted his hand, hesitating at initiating contact because of how she could react, but eventually let his hand drop to her shoulder. She needed to hear this. Even if she didn't want to. Just as he had been told as a boy, she _needed_ reassurance, whether she knew it or not. He forced the painful memories that threatened to resurface out of his mind. _Loss... pain... death… all of it._

"But you need to forgive yourself."

Nat took a few shuddering breaths before responding, "You say that… like it's easy."

Slade locked his gaze on the girl's eyes before him. She was staring at the ground, biting her lip and intertwining her fingers in apprehension. Wilson lifted his hand to her face, curling a finger under her chin, he forced her to look up at him. The startled gasp that escaped her mouth at the contact assured him that he had done the right thing. She was listening to him. He had been able to make physical contact with the child without her recoiling in fear. That was a step forward.

His eye pierced her own pair and she stared unblinkingly back at him. The shield that she had built up to protect herself shattered as he stared deep into her soul. She was in so much pain, the turmoil surrounding her heart would suffocate her if she did not find a release soon. Even if she didn't realise it, Natasha was hanging off his every word. She was in pain and she wanted it to stop. And if he could help her then she would listen to what he had to say. Slade bent towards the girl, bringing her face closer so that he could see every detail of her sage green eyes.

"It's the hardest thing in the world."


	11. Chapter 9 - Flares

**Chapter 9 – Flares **

**23:42 Monday, 22nd February 2016**

_"Ro, was ist los," a young girl barrelled into a teenager, confusion and worry etched into her dirty face. "What's going on?" she asked. The alarms began blaring violently when the training facility blacked out. Thirteen seconds was how long it had taken for the backup generators to kick in. Thirteen seconds of complete darkness. Thirteen seconds to disappear. _

_Without answering, the older girl leaned down, quickly inspecting the fresh injuries decorating the younger girl's face. A couple bruises and scrapes, only one of them deep enough to leave a trail of blood down the child's temple. The only persisting injury was a bloody nose that was still running. The girl had to keep wiping her mouth with the back of her hand to rid herself of the metallic taste on her lips._

_Ro dropped her hands and looked up and down the hall quickly. "Wir warden angegriffen," she told her, "we're being attacked." _

_"Zeit zu gehen, Lex," Ro grabbed the younger girl's hand, "time to go." Together they ran down an endless grey corridor. Their footsteps echoing off the concrete walls and the shuddering of explosions far above combined with the noise of multiple alarms and alerts going off made the whole place disorientating, filling the girls with panic at the disconcerting situation. _

_With the compound running on emergency power, the flashing orange lights illuminated the destroyed hallways made it difficult to navigate without crashing into fallen debris. Ro lifted her hand and signalled to Lex, who knew the signals and slowed down. She too could hear the sound of many male voices approaching. The hallway was straight without anywhere to hide for more than a hundred meters – nowhere near enough time to hide before the people rounded the corner and saw them._

_Spying a door maybe twenty paces ahead, the girls made a dash for it. If the squadron entered the cross-section of converging corridors before they found cover, their escape would be short-lived. Yanking the door open, Ro shoved the smaller girl into the room and jumped in straight after. They did not bother to close the door in case the movement was seen; the place was in ruins, no one would take any notice of an open door in an abandoned and demolished passageway._

_Ro held back a grimace at the sight of mattered, dried blood in Lex's hair. Something must have fallen from the ceiling and cut her head before they found each other. A muffled boom could be heard from somewhere above. Accompanied a split second later by the shock wave that shook the floors and walls, causing dust to cascade down around them. A precariously hanging support beam crashed to the floor mere steps away. _

_Both girls looked at the metal beam and then lifted their eyes to where it had fallen from. A part of the roof had caved in. Flickering orange light leaked through the hole, allowing the girls to glimpse the room above._

_"Lex." _

_The sound of her name was the only instruction Lex needed. Without talking, Lex and Ro hauled a nearby medical table to the broken beam and climbed on top. Ro clasped her hands together and hoisted her friend into the room above. Lex reached down through the roof to help Ro climb up after her. _

"This is sublevel one,"_ Lex said in English, recognising the destroyed meeting room they stood in. As she took a step forward there was a crunching sound beneath her foot. Looking down, she saw the floor covered with shattered glass. Smashed in windows and broken light bulbs had left the place looking like a dismal mess. _

"Freedom's out there."

_Muffled gunshots came from above; it seemed that a war was raging on outside. The shots and shouts that echoed through the concrete base were loud and confusing and seemed to be closing in from all directions. Above, below, the rooms next door. It was almost suffocating in the panic it created. Chaos surrounded them._

"So is the firefight,"_ Ro pointed out. Either stay in hell or risk it all and _maybe _make it out alive. The odds weren't great, but the reward would be worth it. _If _they survived._

_Lex looked to Ro in confusion, "wir greift an?" she whispered, "who are attacking?" _

_"Die Amerikaner," came the short reply. _Great_, she thought. _Americans_._

_"Hat es noch jemand geschafft, did anyone else make it?" Lex dropped her head, shaking it 'no' in response. The purge had blown up the more populated parts of the base first. Almost everyone had died in the initial attack or was shot soon after. Lex lifted her hand and wiped the back of her palm over her nose and mouth for the umpteenth time, collecting still more fresh blood on her sleeve. _

_Ro peered around the corner, watching as a dishevelled squadron of Hydra agents retreated back in the direction of the weapons rooms. When the coast was clear, Ro looked back at Lex. "Lauf," she said, "run."_

"Where are we going?"_ Lex asked as they ran. _"How do we get out of here?"

"The Americans would've had to blast their way in." _Ro pointed in the general direction they were going. _"There should be an entry point somewhere."

"Shh, get back." _Lex pushed herself and Ro against the wall as a group of soldiers passed by a junction in the hallway. _

"Did you see their uniforms? They weren't Hydra."

"Americans?" _asked Ro, frowning slightly at the retreating uniforms. There was something familiar about them, but she couldn't place where the memory came from. _

"No…" _Lex trailed off; her head tilted as she racked her brain for the information. _"They're Australians, I think. Their coat of arms had a kangaroo and an emu. I think they are special ops… ASIS maybe." _Lex checked the hall up and down for hostiles, nodding in satisfaction when she could no longer see or hear anyone. _"Either way, I don't want to stick around long enough to find out."

_Ro pointed towards the direction the men came from,_ "That's our way out." _Glancing at each other, the girls made their way to where they hoped was an exit. Carefully avoiding any more falling debris, Lex almost collapsed when they rounded the corner. A massive hole had been blown in the wall and roof, leading up out of the ground and straight out into the open sky._

Drip, drip, drip. _Her blood landed on the mud-stained floor. But to Lex, it wasn't even there. How could something so trivial as a nosebleed outweigh the simple fact that they were _free_? _

"The stars…"

_"Einfrieren, freeze!" a German man called out. Looking behind them, Ro's heart skipped a beat. Hydra agents. "Mist," she swore. Their guns were trained on her and Lex._

Almost_ free. They were _so close.

_"Soldier 8-0, Experiment 13-X, stand down." Lex forced down the panic that she could feel rising in her chest at the sight of the men, her focus only on getting herself and Ro out of it alive. They were not going back. The sound of guns being cocked snapped Lex out of her daze._

'Pomnite o vashika trenirovkakh, remember your training.' _The Russian words echoed around her head. The same words over and over again that she had been told for years. _Remember your training._ They were trained assassins. They were trained for this. Reaching for the handgun she had snagged from a dead agent and hid in her waistband, Lex seized Ro's hand and pulled her as she ran, firing behind her to cover their escape. _

_"Lauf, run!"_

_The girls scrambled out of the hole with gunfire blazing all around them. They ended up in a clearing in a forest surrounding the base. As they ran, the popping of gunfire ripped at their eardrums. The Hydra agents' attack on their runaways had alerted the Australians as to their location, drawing the fire of both sides towards the girls. _

_Lex and Ro dropped to the ground and waited out the onslaught of bullets. When there was a break in the constant firing, they got up and ran in a crouch to the tree line for cover. Lex was breathing heavily, looking around wildly for any signs of immediate danger, the gun in her hand still ready to be shot at the even slightest signs of movement._

_It was her friend's grunt of pain that revealed the casualty of their escape. Peeking out of her black zipper hoodie, was a blood-stained grey shirt. Ro removed a shaky hand to find it dripping with blood. Her laboured breathing was halted only for her to start hacking and coughing, her lungs protesting to the fluid quickly filling her lungs. She spat out a mouthful of blood and looked to the sky._

"I can see the stars again, _Lexie_."

_Lex tore apart as much of Ro's jacket as she could without hurting her, bundled it up and pressed it firmly against the wound. _"Stay with me Ro, please. Don't leave me."_ She couldn't die now. They had come so far. They were _so close.

_Ro looked sadly at her friend. They had gone through so much together; it was unfair that they were separated now. Not after all they'd been through. And although Ro looked sad and her face was contorted in pain – pain which she was attempting to hide for Lexie's sake – she seemed oddly at peace. Knowing that she was no longer a slave, allowed a certain level of peace to settle over her heart. She could die knowing her sister at heart stood by her side and that she was free._

_Lex heard a twig snapping underfoot, aiming her gun at the space the sound originated from. _

_"Beweg dich nicht, don't move," the German command was shouted by a surviving Hydra soldier. A second later, his body hit the ground with a _thud_. Lex threw the now empty gun to the side, turning back to Ro. This was their fault._

"It's okay now _Schwester_, the Americans are here. They will help you. We are free."

_Lex wanted to scream, knowing that she was dying and that there was nothing she could do. _"They're Australians, Ro." _An explosion broke through the chaotic night; the noise almost deafening in its wake. Red lights lit up the sky. _

_"Wir sind jetzt in Sicherheit, we're safe now, Lex."_

"Just hold on _Sestra_. I'll get help."_ Lex made to leave but felt a hand on her arm; Ro was pulling her down. She jolted in shock as another flare was set off. The lights hung in the sky long after it had exploded._

"Did you see the flares… in the sky?" _she asked, tears brimming her eyes._

"Yeah… they found us... we'll be okay."

"We're you blinded by the light?" _Ro stared into her friend's eyes. She saw fear and sadness in those deep blue orbs. She was afraid. Afraid to lose her. Afraid that her little sister wouldn't be safe. Sad that she would no longer be there to protect the little girl she had grown to care for so much._

"Can you feel the smoke… in your eyes?"

"They're are coming for us, just hold on Ro, please." _Lex could see her life fading away. She had lost so much blood._

"Someone, help us!"_ she screamed into the night. _"Please!"

"Did you-" _the teen spluttered on her own blood, spitting out the offensive substance before continuing._ "Did you see the sparks filled with hope?"

_Lex nodded, resting her head on her dying friend's heart. _"I did." _She was already dead. There was nothing she could do. Lex wanted so badly to cry, but the tears would not come. She had never cried. Lex didn't even know if she could. She briefly wondered if it would help – crying. Did it actually make the pain easier to deal with? Wasn't crying a weakness? Wasn't she supposed to be unbreakable? Crying was a sign that a person was broken. Lex would never break. She was made of marble._

"Listen to me, Lex," s_he gripped the younger girl's hand, holding on tightly as she fought back tears. She had to be strong. _"You are not alone. Someone's out there… sending out flares. You have to live."

_This was the first time Lex had ever seen Ro cry. Crying was a weakness and showing weakness was forbidden. How much pain was she in to have completely broken down? Was it scary? Death? Lex realised that it was the first time she had ever wanted to cry. The first time she could ever remember being in so much pain. All the experiments and test and endless hours of torture had nothing on what she was feeling at that moment._

"Please, _Roza, _don't leave me – please!" _She could hear twigs snapping and voices murmuring as soldiers approached. Ro reached to her neck and pulled out a leather cord from under her clothes. A worn, metal charm with a single word engraved on one side. Ro pulled the cord over her head and pressed it tightly into her friend's hand. _

"Don't forget me. And never… never let them take the light behind your eyes." _As much as Lex wished she didn't know what the fourteen-year-old girl was talking about, she did. Lex could feel Ro's lifeforce leaving her body; she could feel the energy fading away. Ro was dying. Her lungs were filling with blood, it was only a matter of time before her heart gave out. There was nothing that could save her now. _

_Lex wished now more than ever that she could cry for her fallen comrade. The teen had helped her get through being Hydra's slave. Did it make her a monster for not mourning the loss of the only person she had? But the tears would not fall. Not now, not ever. Not even as she lost the only person left in the world that she cared about. Ro had become her friend… her sister. They had promised that they would escape together. And if only one of them made it, to find the other's family. And Lex would honour that promise if it was the last thing she ever did._

"I'll find them, Ro. I promise." _Lex clutched her fist tightly by her side, the cool sensation of the metal in her hand grounding her to earth. She would never forget her. Never._

_Lex held her friends face in her hands, bringing her forehead to rest against Ro's. Lex lost track of time as she lay against her sister, the only thing she cared about was being close to Ro. They had come so far. They had finally escaped. They were _finally_ free. They had come too far for it to end like this. Lex only became aware that people had surrounded them when gloved hands lifted her away from the corps of Soldier 8-0. _

_ "Nu!" the scream tore from her throat as the men holding her pulled her away. "Sestra!"_

"Medic! We need a medic!" _another soldier called out into the darkness of the forest. These men were Australians. She was free. _

"Michaels – take her,"_ the command was barked out from the man who had dragged Lex away from her dying friend. Lex was thrust into the arms of another soldier. She turned around and made to run away but was trapped in Michaels' arms. _

"We're losing her," _called the medic. He was bent over Ro's body feeling for a pulse. _

"No, _Sestra_!" _Lex screamed in desperation. She had to be with her._ "Please!"

"Take cover!" _one of the soldiers yelled over the noise. Lex felt herself being thrown to the ground just as bullets fired on their previous position. A grenade shook the earth she lay on. Scrambling out of the soldier's hold, Lex crawled over to her friend, silently hoping against all odds that she would still be alive, despite knowing it was impossible. She felt two arms wrap around her chest, pulling her away from the body of her long-time friend. _

_ "Lemme go!" she screeched into the darkness._

"Girl, she's gone. There's nothing we can do for her anymore. We have to go unless you want us all to end up like your friend."

"No, please." _Lex was struggling against the soldier. He was pulling her away from Ro along with the retreating unit. _"I can't leave her. I promised her we'd stay together."

"Fall back. Fall back!" _the command was being echoed around the forest as the Australian soldiers disappeared into the woods. Another bright red flare exploded high up above. The light reflected in her eyes, all her sadness and frustration weighed heavily on her soul. Ro was dead. She felt so empty inside. How could this have happened? They had come so far… Lex felt cold and lost as a storm tore her up inside. The desperation of her predicament made her freeze where she stood. _

_Ro wanted her to escape. Ro had given her life so that she could survive. She had to make it out of this alive. _

_Lex could feel the smoke beginning to settle below the tree line. Her eyes stung from the remnants of the flares. The burning sensation in her eyes was enough to make anyone cry. But Lex wasn't just anyone. Tears were for the weak. _

_Reluctantly, Lex turned away from her friend's dead body lying across the clearing. It hurt to leave her behind, but she forced herself to keep going. She quickly slipped the cord over her head, tucking it under her shirt and jacket._

_Lex looked back over her shoulder through a curtain of grimy hair and she watched as the silhouette of Ro's lifeless body was collected by a Hydra soldier and dragged into the thickening smog. Lex forced herself to turn away and focus on surviving. _

"Sir, we found one." _The soldier Lex had been following guided her to duck behind a large metal structure next to another soldier. _

"Good work Jalen. Round up the troops and fall back. Time to get out of here."

"Yes, sir." _Another explosion shook the ground, in the distance, another section of the base crumbled to the earth. The young man retreating towards the forest stumbled from the shockwave, quickly scrambling to his feet and disappearing under the cover of smoke and darkness._

"You got a name kid?"

_Lex looked at the new man she was crouching down beside. Her eyes flicked to the building which she had been a prisoner in for who knows how long. She responded absent-mindedly. _

_"…13-X…"_ _her mind was preoccupied on a more important topic. Ro. Her friend. Her best friend. She was gone. They had hoped to escape together. But there were contingencies set in place if that was not possible. They had promised each other to find the other's family if one of them didn't make it back. And that's what she would do. She could feel the single piece of Ro that she had left resting against her chest and allowed it to fill her with strength. She could do this. She would make it out alive. _

_If Lex had been looking, she would have seen the shock in the Soldiers eyes at her revelation. The fact that she wasn't even given a name, but a number. But then, she would have also noticed that the man only had one eye. The other being covered by a black patch._

_She was more focused on her seemingly impossible task ahead. The only problem was how. She knew almost nothing about Ro. They were forbidden to talk about their lives before Hydra, nor did they possess more than fractured memories of their past. Only a few stolen moments gave Lex anything to go on. _

_"They named me Okeaniya Volk," the child said in German, looking towards the burning building._

_"But my friend,"_ _she started distractedly, "she called me Lex."_

"Lex? Stay with me. I'll get you out of here," _he said, pulling her backwards by the arm until she could no longer see her burning prison._ "I'll get you home."

_A hailstorm of bullets and bombs rained down around them. The man pulled the child closer to him, protecting her from the brunt of the attack. The man's hands were fumbling to grab something out of his utility belt. Lex saw the man's hands shaking, one of which was stained with crimson blood. She quickly scanned the man's body to find the source of the blood, if it was his anyway. She found a hastily wrapped bandage around his upper leg, a small amount of blood staining the fabric. Probably a bullet wound or cut from exploding shrapnel. _

"We need to get you out of here. But I need you to cause a distraction with this." _He handed her an unlit flare._ "I will cover you. I need you to run to there," _he pointed to an upturned tank lying on the battlefield. _"Light this and throw it as far as you can at the people attacking us, okay? Knock off the cap and scrape this part along the ground. You'll have six seconds once it's lit. Don't panic – I will be right behind you. I need you to keep your head in the game if we're gonna make it out alive." _His hand brushed her shoulder briefly. _"You can do this."

_Lex nodded her head, taking the explosive in her hand. She understood. It made sense. The flare was like a grenade, but with less firepower. Also, Lex noted, the man was out of grenades. _

"Khorosho, okay," _her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. This wasn't over yet. Lex waited for the soldier's signal. He nodded to her and Lex took off without a second thought. Staying low to the ground, Lex forced herself not to look back at the soldier as he laid down cover fire. Diving for cover, Lex knocked off the cap and scrapped the fuse along the ground. She counted to three before chucking it at the group of Hydra agents. The explosion was magnificent and brilliantly bright. It was so close that Lex could actually feel the intense heat of sparks against her skin. There was a break in the gunfire and a moment later the soldier man joined Lex behind the broken lump of metal._

"We're almost home kid," _he shouted above the chaos. _"Just stick close to me and you'll be alright."

Home?_ She thought. It had been so long Lex wasn't even sure if she knew what a home was anymore. Did she even have one? A family? Were they still alive? Probably not._

_The ground shook with the strength of a thousand men; the noise impossibly loud. The entire world seemed to tremble. All at once, the Hydra building completely collapsed in on itself, burying anyone left inside that wretched place. Only rubble and dust left in its wake. _

_"Lex, get down!"_

_Another explosion knocked Lex off her feet. She felt her head smash into the side of the tank and then everything went black._


	12. Chapter 10 - Rose

**Chapter 10 – Rose**

**03:16 Wednesday, 11th October 2017**

Slade was woken up in the night once again to petrified screams of his resident child. He knew this would happen. No way was the previous night an isolated incident. She had been through too much for nightmares to not be a regular occurrence. Sighing in resignation, Slade saved his files and shut off his computer before he left his room and headed down the hall. The door to the kid's room was barely ten meters away and Slade crossed the distance in just a couple of strides.

The dim light from the hallway bled into the room through the open door, casting a large shadow of Slade's silhouette onto the bedroom floor. Slade had expected the kid to be awake and probably confused but instead, he found the child unconscious and screaming bloody murder. She was writhing around and had managed to trap herself under the sheets. Slade approached her bed, flicking the side table lamp on as he did so. It would be better for the kid if she could see where she was when she woke up. No need to send her into a panic attack this early in the morning.

Slade pulled the sheets away from her legs, careful to dodge any stray kicks from her struggling. He put his hands on her arms to stop the frantic punches the child was throwing.

"Kid, you need to wake up."

A voice broke through the muddled chaos and noise within her dream. Nat could feel something holding her down through all the confusion and anarchy in her dream.

_"You're dreaming kid. This isn't real. You're safe. I promise you; you're safe. Come back to me kid." _Natasha shot up like a bullet. Almost smashing her head against Wilson's if it wasn't for his lightning-fast reflexes, moving out the of the way without letting her go.

_"Chto, what?"_

"You had a nightmare." Slade went to push back the child's hair from her eyes but withdrew his hand sharply when Nat flinched away from him. _She was scared._ Because of what those _monsters _did to her. She shrank away from human touch because the system had failed her; because _that man _had left her to the wolves; because he had left her to suffer._ Of course,_ she was scared.

Her eyes were full of fear, illuminated only by the warm glow of her yellow side lamp. Visible confusion was etched onto her face. She was slowly moving further away from Slade, pulling her legs close to her and hugging them to her chest. Everything that had happened to her in Hydra couldn't be stopped. But what happened to her after she miraculously escaped: that was on him. If he had just taken her away when he had the chance, Natasha would have never had to endure months of abuse and confusion, and for what? To keep her safe? Hydra had still found her. They had still murdered a family that she had lived with. They had taken everything from her. Her home, her memory, her family, her friends, her whole life.

"You were screaming in German," Slade said as he backed off of her bed, standing a few paces away. She wanted – _needed _– space to make her feel safe. Slowly, she seemed to notice where she was and who she was with. Her brain registered the distance between them, and her frantic breathing died down.

_"It was you," s_he whispered in that same language.

"What?" it wasn't that he didn't understand what the child had said, he did. But what was she talking about? Her dream? Had it been a memory? Was it finally coming back?

"It was you…" she murmured, switching back to English. "You were the soldier. You were there that night. The night I escaped. You gave me a flare… you gave me hope."

Slade felt his entire body freeze. She knew. She remembered that night. It was the night she escaped. The night that Okeaniya 'Lex' Volk lost her memory. If he had been more careful then maybe none of this would have happened. If he had been faster, then maybe that girl who escaped would still be here and not this remnant of who she used to be, trapped inside of her own mind. Would she blame him for what had happened? He had left her to that man after all. He had sealed her fate by walking away.

"You remember?" he asked cautiously, keeping all emotion out of his voice. It all came down to what exactly she remembered. She needed to do this. No interference.

Nat nodded mutely, hugging her legs just a little tighter. "It's all muddy, but I remember your face…"

"There was a bomb. You hit your head," he said softly, unsure of what her reaction would be. "You were out of it for twelve days and when you came to… you didn't remember anything." Slade sat back from Natasha. It was difficult to watch a child curl in on themself in so much pain and confusion. It was even harder when you knew the best thing you could do for that child was to stay away from them. Anything Slade tried to do to help would only make the situation that much worse.

Nat had backed herself into the corner of her bed and up against the wall. She needed space. It would take time for her to come to terms with everything that had happened.

"I'm sorry, Tash," said Slade. He paused a moment at the door to look back at the little girl shaking like a leaf on her bed. If staying would help, he would never leave her alone. But she didn't trust him, and his presence would only cause her even more distress. Slade forced himself to turn away and closed the door behind him. _She would be okay, _he told himself. _She's strong._

Nat turned towards the door when she heard it close. She wasn't sure if she preferred the solitude or despised it. It was calm and peaceful and quiet. Too quiet. Which meant that she was left alone with her thoughts with nothing to distract her. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder often left its victims with detrimental and self-destructive thoughts. Mostly things along the lines of 'I shouldn't have been the one to survive' or 'is it really over?' But for Nat, it was reliving all the terrible things that had been done to her and remembering all the atrocities she had committed. Every night; another scream; another faceless child died at her hand. Another murder she couldn't prevent. Why did she have to be so helpless? But if she shut the memories out, like she so often did, there was nothing but a tumble into darkness.

Acknowledging the past was doable, albeit painful, yet reliving the worst moments of her life over and over again drove Nat to the brink of insanity, the edge of the abyss. The endless 'what if's?' that plague her mind. What if it was her fault? What if she was evil? What if everything that ever went wrong in her life was because of her? All the doubt; the fear; the regret; Nat felt like it was eating her up inside. There was only so long before she couldn't control it anymore. The darkness would seep out and destroy her until there was nothing left. No hope, no life, nothing. Nat didn't think she would survive if that happened to her.

All the fear and rage trapped in her mind. Her memories were so full of confusion and pain. And no one knew about it. If anyone found out, it would make it that much harder to contain. Nat kept everything inside because she was afraid of what would happen if she lost control again. It wasn't a memory, but something that she just knew with absolute certainty, was that when she lost control, people got hurt.

There was something inside of her. A demon. She couldn't let it escape. If it did, then nothing would stop it. Nothing could tame the demons that lived behind her eyes. It was a monster… _she _was a monster.

With her eyes closed, she breathed in slowly, counting to ten before releasing the breath, making her body relax against the wall as she exhaled. She couldn't think about that. Not now. She had to suppress those thoughts before they took hold, otherwise it would be too late. Nat pushed her nightmare to the back of her mind, forcing herself to think of nothing. Focusing only on breathing. A blank mind meant that she didn't have to deal with her past.

_It was too painful._

She wasn't strong enough to deal with it. Nat would deal with the new memory later. Preferably when she didn't feel like she was suffocating under the pressure.

Natasha repeated the process until all she could hear was the beating of her own heart and her slow, steady breaths. When her eyes popped open, despite the darkness, Natasha was relieved to see the shaking in her hands had subsided. She did not need another one. Not here. Not now_._ Not _ever_. She could go six lifetimes without ever needing to experience _that _again. She took one more deep breath, forcing all of her thoughts into a little black box in the back of her mind, and locked the door. Even if it meant that she couldn't feel anything, it was better than the alternative. No thoughts or memories of her past: she was Nat, an orphan with amnesia, nothing more.

Natasha Treaty was an Australian girl with no memory and no family, she could deal with that. Nat used her identity as Natasha Turner to deal with the emotional trauma that she couldn't handle. It didn't matter who she really was because she kept her buried deep within her own mind. That way it didn't hurt. That way Nat didn't have to _feel_ anything. She could be free.


	13. Chapter 11 - Unfamiliar Surroundings

**Chapter 11 – Unfamiliar Surroundings**

**03:45 Wednesday, 11th October 2017**

Nat crawled to the edge of the bed and stood up, looking through the darkness to where she knew the entrance to be. Wandering over to the door, Nat held her arms out in front of her, feeling blindly along the wall for the light switch, only the dim glow from her bedside table lamp to guide her. Feeling a change in texture on the wall, Nat pushed her fingers into it, pleased the switch had turned the lights on and not blown up the entire place. That would not have been good.

Nat's right eyebrow rose without her permission when she saw the absurdity of the design for a simple light switch. An almost hidden panel in the dark grey wall, outlined in a black matte box, was a dull silver panel no bigger than her palm.

Despite nearly a week passing since the _incident_, Nat hadn't studied, or even acknowledged the room that was now hers. She had only spent two nights in the room because Wilson had kept her in the med-bay for four days, but in that time, she hadn't bothered to explore the room. A queen-sized bed sat in the far-left corner as she looked at the room from the entrance. The bed had been pushed up against the walls just how she liked it. It was easier to defend yourself if you didn't have to watch your back. It also made it that much harder to sneak up on someone if there was only one direction you could approach them from, instead of a three-sixty option of attack.

Nat briefly wondered if Wilson knew that, or if it was just a coincidence. But he was a military man; he probably experienced the same comfort knowing his back was covered. The bedspread was a beautiful ocean themed cover. All the colours of the sea lined up in a gradient from the deepest blue to a seafoam white. Somehow the colour scheme alone seemed to bring a slither of peace to her heart. Nat knew she was alone, so she allowed herself to drop her guard slightly. No one was here at the moment. No one could hurt her.

A dark wooden bedside table stood next to the bed; the side lamp still turned on. Nat heard herself exhale harshly in what could be mistaken for a laugh when she realised the rocket ship-shaped object was a lava lamp. Those things were awesome and mesmerising to watch as you tried to fall asleep. The corner directly to her right sat a deep-blue beanbag atop a fluffy rug. A lounge chair seemed to close off the area as a separate part of the room, and the sight of bookshelves stocked with numerous stories brought a small smile to her face.

How had Wilson known that she liked reading? And more importantly, she realised as she came closer to the reading nook, how had he known what series she had been reading? As she was certain Wilson knew. The fact that all her current and intended reads, and even some of her older favourites sat on the shelves hanging on the walls was too much of a coincidence to have not been planned. Nat had often snuck out during the day to seek refuge in the local libraries. It had been a good distraction from… everything. She would always bring a few books back with here every time to help pass the endless hours of many sleepless nights.

Across the little reading corner against the back and right walls was a large desk that was protruding from the wall itself. It was painted a dark grey and was much longer against the back wall than the side, able to easily fit two large desk chairs side by side if you wanted to. The shorter end of the desk could still fit a chair comfortably and the desk appeared to be rather wide as well. Who needed a desk that large? There were two sets of draws, one at either end, as well as shelves located above the desk on the wall in the same place. In between the fuzzy blue rug and the desk was a silver door. It was the same colour as the light switch.

Nat knew that she was letting her curiosity get the better of her, but she could see no harm in indulging her inner child – seeing as her outer child was permanently unavailable. No one was around to see her, there were no cameras in the room, she was alone, she was safe. Nat slid the door across with tentative hands and felt against the left wall for a light switch. Finding an identical panel to before, Nat pressed the button. The room filled with a bright white light, revealing a spacious bathroom waiting to be discovered.

A shower-bath in the right corner closest to the door, a basket took up space behind the bath to the wall. Directly across from the door were two long metal rods, one slightly above the other. The far-left corner had a bench starting from the wall, coming a generous way out. The sink was off-centre to the left, a ring connected to the side for a handtowel. The last corner was occupied by the toilet. It was overly lavish and way more than necessary. How many eleven-year-olds had their own ensuite?

When Natasha turned around, she could see the far wall the length of the bed lay against. At the end of the bed was a dark brown box. On the same wall as the bedroom door was a tall dresser in the corner and shorter chest of draws. She headed to the unexplored corner of the room. Was this seriously all for her? Why? What was so important about her? It was way too nice and personalised to be a temporary place. Natasha opened the chest at the end of her bed and was greeted by an abundance of blankets and bedsheets.

"Right – blanket box – duh," she said to herself in an undertone. Closing the box, Nat turned around and stepped towards the dresser.

"What the…"


	14. Chapter 12 - Prepared Efforts

**Chapter 12 – Prepared Efforts **

**03:55 Wednesday, 11th October 2017**

While Nat opened the top draw for the sake of it, she wasn't really expecting there to be anything inside. So, what the hell, why was the draw stocked? And not just _a_ set of clothes. Nope. The top drawer was full of socks and underwear. Confusion beyond anything hit Natasha like a tidal wave. She opened the drawer below cautiously. The entire thing was full of sports clothes. Shirts, singlets, tracksuit pants, leggings, shorts, bike shorts, swimming togs, long light weights, and compressions. Nat lifted the top shirt and held it against herself. A perfect fit. What was she to make of all this? This was most certainly not normal. Not at all.

Nat pulled open the next draw, and just like before, it was full. A variety of T-shirts and tops all in her size. Nat pulled open the next drawer and – surprise, surprise – full of long pants, jeans and shorts of different styles. What the hell? Nat opened the second last drawer, not even knowing what to expect. It was full of summer and winter pyjamas and pj's for every month in between. What the heck? How long was she supposed to be staying here for? This wasn't just random clothes. This was an entire bloody wardrobe. Nat opened the bottom drawer, not even bothering to guess its contents, and was somewhat surprised to see her actual clothes from her previous foster homes neatly folded within. At least she had her stuff here as well. The clothes seemed too nice and perfect. Everything in the room must have been super expensive. Nat felt that by just touching it, she would ruin them. Her clothes were old and worn, but they were comfortable and fitted her well enough, so she had never really cared.

Nat looked to her right, a full-length dresser beside her. If this thing was full of clothes, what the hell was the wardrobe for? Utterly bewildered, Nat opened both doors of the tall cupboard.

"What the actual heck?"

From left to right, Natasha listed the items in her head. Dress shirts, skirts, dresses, jumpsuits, overalls, hoodies, zipper-jumpers, nice jackets, and warm jackets. Why on earth was there so many clothes in the room? On the bottom were two racks. They were lined with shoes as well as two backpacks at the end. One of which was Natasha's bag, the other was probably new along with everything else in the room. Why would anyone need that many pairs of shoes? Boots, runners, converses, many branded shoes and… _combat boots?_

"Oh my gosh," Nat was rendered speechless. How… why? She was a foster kid. She had been living out of two bags for well and truly over five hundred days. How much would it have cost? No way could she afford even a small portion of what she had seen.

This couldn't seriously be all for her… right? Then a thought occurred to Natasha, what if the rest of the room was like this? Nat shut the doors and went to inspect the corner desk. It was massive – way bigger than necessary. She pulled open the draws and could do nothing but shake her head in disbelief. The entire top draw on the back wall was full of stationery. The one below that stocked with different books; small, big, lined, blank and grid. Why?

Abandoning her half-finished search of the desk, Nat re-entered the bathroom. The cabinet under the bench had a stack of towels and hygiene products. The draw on the side had things like a toothbrush, toothpaste and other sanitary items. The other draw had a basket inside with a bucketload of hair ties and scrunchies. Three different brushes and a selection of combs was next to the basket in the draw as well. The cabinet above the sink had a medical pack and first-aid kit.

Nat backed herself into the nearest wall and slid down it in disbelief. Why was this happening to her? Why her? Was she dead? Was this Elysium? Or Valhalla? Or anywhere but earth? Because no one had ever gone to such an effort to prepare _anything _for her, let alone an entire room and wardrobe to match.

How in hell… why? Why was everything here? This would have taken days to prepare and Wilson had been around the whole time. No one else came around, which meant that Wilson had organised everything in advance… way in advanced. But how could he have known that she would be staying with him? Unless Wilson was an operative of Hydra. In which case – well, Nat was, in the worst way possible, royally flushed.

But that didn't make any sense. Slade Wilson had _led_ the attack on the Hydra base. He destroyed it and everyone inside. He was with the Australian Army. Possibly ASIS. Unless this place had been a fallback or plan from the start. That could explain why it was already arranged for Nat to stay with him, but not why it was so extravagantly furnished with a massive wardrobe to fitted to her size and fashion. That wasn't Hydra's style.

Then a pleasanter thought crossed her mind, if her bag and clothes were all there, was her other stuff too?

Nat ran out of the bathroom, sliding to a stop on her knees, bumping against the large bed. She pulled open the closer draw, which just so happened to be the bottom one, thrilled to see her sketchbooks, set of graphite pencils, iPhone and white earphones sitting on the wooden board. A blue Gen-4 iPod nano was tucked away in the corner. An array of chargers had already been plugged into the wall with a power board behind the table. There was also a black headset that Natasha did _not_ own.

What was going on?

In the top drawer was a cap from her football team and a hand-crafted wooden box. After staring at the small contraption for a short eternity, Nat gingerly pulled it out and looked at it a while longer. It was her 'secret box' of random treasures. Memories and tokens compiled together in one place. Kind of like, if she was forced to forget everything again, they would be the things she would hope to remember. Nat backed onto the bed and sat down with the box resting on her lap. Four silver numbers could be rotated to form the combination and unlock the box. Nat adjusted the dials slightly, so the numbers read 1-3-1-0 and opened with a satisfying _click_.

Her few precious belongings lived within the box. The necklace she got as a gift from Merliah, and her anklet she'd always had were always on her person, so the box held only a few photos or tokens from some of her nicer foster homes. There were also a few letters. Some addressed to her from old placements, some from Merliah, and even a few written by herself either addressed to unknown people with things that she wished she could ask, or herself in the past or future. It was one of the only ways Nat could keep everything together. All her questions and memories stashed together in one place. Nat carefully shuffled through the contents of the box until her fingers found a nook in the false bottom.

Nat had built a secret compartment for one very special object. But to be honest, Nat had nearly forgotten about it until her dream just now. It was Ro's. The cord she gave to Nat, or as she had called her, Lex, just before she died. Either side of a red bead was a rectangular silver metal charm with the word 'Rose' written on one side. Nat took out the cord and replaced the false bottom in the box, along with everything else and set it on the bedside table. Ro had managed to keep it hidden for years. Neither one of them, nor any other kid in the compound for that matter, had any idea how many years had passed. For all they knew, they could have been running on sixteen-hour days or thirty-six-hour days. They had no way of telling the passage of time. It could have been one year or ten. But Ro had managed to hide that one piece of her soul away all that time.

Nat traced the word with her fingers, not focusing on the object in her hands, but the worth and meaning of its presence.

She had survived, just like Ro had wanted. But how was she ever going to find Ro's family? They could be anywhere on the planet and the only thing Nat knew was that her friend's real name was Rose. The underside was faint and hard to read, but a date had been engraved: 14-02-1999. It was her birthday. Ro had told her one day during a power outage. The lack of power meant that the cameras in their 'rooms' had stopped working. It was one of the only times Ro had managed to divulge any personal information to her.

That meant that, officially, Ro would have just turned seventeen when they escaped. Eight days after her birthday and she was murdered. She would have been an adult by now. Eighteen and a half years old. How old had Ro said she was? Nat could feel the memory slipping away the harder she tried to remember. Nat didn't know where the sudden rush of memories was coming from, and she tried her best to stay calm while she worked through the new information. She couldn't lose it now.

Natasha flopped backwards onto the bed, necklace in hand and closed her eyes. She wouldn't let them slip through her mind again. Nat focused on what she could remember. The sound of Ro's voice, what she was saying to her during the dream. Or the memory, as that's what it was. She etched the picture of her friends face in her mind forever. No way would she ever forget her. Not again. Until an hour ago, the necklace had meant nothing to her. Just some random item she'd had on under her tattered shirt when she woke up in a government facility.

Nat allowed Ro's voice the fill her mind, neither forcing nor pushing memories. She let her emotions flow like water. She had to learn to let go of everything she thought she knew. Nat let her emotions guide her from thought to memory of her lost friend.

* * *

_"We're still alive, so that's good."_

* * *

_"Everyone calls me Ro, what's your name?"_

_"13-X."_

_"That's not good enough. Imma just call you Lex."_

* * *

_"This place is like an evil religious cult."_

_"It is a cult, Ro. This is the _literal _definition of a cult."_

* * *

_"My parents had it made for me the day I was born. It's my real name and my birthday. Lex, they can never know I have this."_

_"Never."_

* * *

_"You gotta do what they say if you wanna survive this place, Lex. But remember; never give in, never give up, and never surrender. We just have to play their game until we can get out."_

* * *

_"We're gonna make it out alive, Lexei, I promise."_

* * *

_"Don't worry. I've got you."_

* * *

"Nineteen-ninety-nine," Nat mumbled beneath her breath. "Twelve years old meaning twenty-eleven or twenty-twelve. Which means four or five years." But she only aged two years (ish – it was hard to tell). Which mean that – at least for Ro – her aging had been altered to move at a half pace. Nat knew that she didn't know enough about herself to even begin to solve how old she really was, so she didn't even bother opening that can of worms. Why was everything involving her past so difficult?

Nat looked down at herself. She was still in those same pyjamas. "Ugh, I need to get changed." Natasha glanced back towards the bathroom, slightly hesitant. "I mean, mister Wilson did say this was all mine. If it's here I may's well use it." Nat quickly hid the necklace back in its box and the box in her side-draw and ran to the dresser. So many clothes. She pulled out a pair of black track pants, an oversized grey, V-neck t-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Standing under a jet of cold water finally rid Nat of the feeling that she couldn't breathe. Strange concept, considering she was getting soaked, but the water had always calmed her down. She let her mind run blank as the water washed away every unwanted thought and feeling. If only she could be washed away too. The cold water felt nice as it ran down her neck. The bruises had faded away days ago and the scars had all but healed. Nat knew that she healed faster than most; she had seen enough scrapes and bruises on foster siblings to know how long they usually took to disappear. Once she had a broken arm that had fixed itself faster than a scrape on Jacen's knee.

With the water running down her face, Nat allowed the momentary sensation of calm to wash over her as if she had submerged herself in the ocean. No more thought of Ro or Hydra. All traces of those topics were sent to that little black box along with every other taboo subject she had thought of. Memories could be dangerous, especially to those around her. She was just Nat, nothing else. It was better that way… for everyone.

The peaceful feeling that came from the water was more than enough to make Nat never want to leave. Too bad she couldn't live underwater. After drying off and changing into her new clothes. Nat pulled the towel away from her hair – which was still dripping slightly – and forced a brush through the tangled mess.

Ten minutes later, Nat had finally managed to pull her hair into a ponytail, then taking two extra hairbands, Nat twisted her hair around her finger and then up into a bun, using one of the bands to keep it neatly in place, leaving the other to hand on her wrist as a backup. Nat looked at herself in the mirror: other than looking slightly dead inside, at least her hair was out of the way.

Nat walked back into the main room and pulled a dark grey zip-up hoodie off a hanger. She stood at the door staring blankly ahead, debating whether or not she could face Wilson. But then, she couldn't just stand at the door forever. Nat let out a soft groan and banged her head against the door once before opening it. Oh, to hell with it all.


	15. Chapter 13 - Allegiance

**Chapter 13 - Allegiance**

**04:50 Wednesday, 11th October 2017**

Closing the door silently behind her, Nat turned around to stare down the dark corridor. There was something strangely familiar about dark, decollate, grey hallways. Nat supposed the last time she'd been in halls like that was almost two years ago – the same night she had escaped from Hell.

Nat shook her head. She _needed_ to stop thinking about that stuff. Biting down on the inside of her lip to bring her mind back, she checked for a glimmer of light at the end of the dark halls.

What the _hell_ was she doing? It wasn't even five in the morning.

Her hand found its way to the wall, fingers running along the cool, smooth surface as she crept down the hall. A dim light caught her attention as she rounded the corner. It was coming from the kitchen.

Eventually, she was close enough to peek her head in; Wilson was hunched over a mug, the white light of his computer screen illuminating his face.

Not wanting to interrupt the man, Nat hovered by the entrance, feeling out of place. She had half a mind to turn back, but then, just as she decided to walk away, she heard her name called out in an undertone.

"Tash…" she bit down on the skin between her teeth when she realised that she'd been caught. There was no way out. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Her head bobbed up and down once automatically, that's what she was supposed to say… wasn't it? Wasn't she always supposed to be okay? Cause no one wanted a broken kid. Adults were all the same. It didn't matter what she was dealing with, as long as they had nothing to do with it. You couldn't trust them. Nat stood one foot in the room, ready to turn on her heel and run at the first sign of danger.

"You can come in, kid. No need to stand at the door." Nat's eyes darted between the table where Wilson sat and back down to her feet. She took her hands away from the wall, heading towards the closest chair, which, coincidentally, just so happened to be the furthest away from the man.

"Did you need something?" She responded mutely. Her fingers twisting her spare hairband into knots, before pulling it loose and starting again.

"What are you doing up?"

A shrug.

Wilson was studying the child, searching her for any sign of an injury. He stared at her a while longer, hoping to see some sort of clue as to what was going on inside her head. But her eyes remained firmly locked on her fidgeting hands. He reached forward to shut the lid of his laptop. Resting his elbows on the table, he interlocked his fingers and considered the child they called Natasha Turner.

There was something strange about her. Not her past or her behaviour – they were explainable – it was her whole attitude towards just about everything, and how her entire demeanour could change in the blink of an eye. It was like she was hiding who she was, not just from the people around her, but from herself as well. She had buried her emotions so deep within herself. He wondered how many years she had been forced to live like that. How many habits would he have to undo?

He blinked himself out of his daze, "you've gotta give me something to work with, kid."

He could see the internal war she'd waged against herself, debating whether or not it was safe to speak out. She could tell that the man wanted answers and she didn't want to risk angering him by refusing. There would be a point where he would snap, there always was, and Nat was hoping to hold it off as long for as she could.

She could feel his ever-growing irritation at her silence, there was nothing for it. She had to give in. She straightened her spine, she would not back down. Nat was careful to keep her tone neutral. She had to be smart about this. This man had something that she needed. It was too early on to know what she could and couldn't get away with. Better to be safe than sorry.

"You still haven't told me where I am." The statement wasn't accusing. And no matter how quietly she spoke, Slade could still hear her nerves through her words.

"I don't know what you want me to say, kid," he said, leaning back in his chair. "This place has no address. Officially, it doesn't even exist. No one else knows you're here."

"But why didn't you just take me back to HQ?" she asked, her voice strengthened as she spoke.

"Look, Natasha…" Slade trailed off, watching to see her reaction at the name he called her. She'd said she remembered that night. Slade just wasn't sure how much of it she remembered.

_Apparently not enough._

If she had, Tash would have reacted to the use of her, for lack of a better term, fake name. even unconsciously, a flinch or a slight frown of confusion or rejection of the name that wasn't her own.

The only problem: Slade felt it wasn't his place to bring up unknown information to the girl. It wasn't fair. Not for the girl, not for anyone. She had to remember these things herself.

"The only way for that attack to have happened is if there was a mole in ASIS. And if the people charged with your protection are compromised… nowhere is safe. As long as you were with them, you weren't safe."

"And I am now?" her voice was defiant and challenging. She didn't trust him.

_Of course, _she didn't trust him. Slade doubted that the kid even knew what it felt like to trust someone. He wondered how long it had been since that little girl had fallen asleep _knowing_ that she was safe.

_Maybe never._

"They probably think you're dead. They'll assume the explosion either killed you or you were taken by Hydra around that time. Either way, no one is coming back to look for you anymore."

Slade waited to see if she'd respond, but her eyes never left her hands. Slade leant his arms on the table, silently observing the girl. Was she scared? Worried? He couldn't tell. Why did the child have to be so apt at masking how she felt?

"Tash, if Hydra thinks you're gone, they're not gonna hunt you down anymore. You could be free."

"But I can never leave," she glanced upwards, a dull flame dancing in her eyes. Slade imagined all the hell and horrors she'd seen. For someone so young to have that look in their eyes, their innocence must have been destroyed. How many people had she seen die? How many people's lives had she been forced to take?

_Just how far has this little girl gone in order to survive?_

"Can I?" she asked bitterly.

Slade removed his arms from the table, letting them fall to his lap. She was so terrified. Had it not even occurred to her that Slade only wanted to help her?

"This isn't a prison, Tash. It's an underground bunker designed to withstand the end of days. They can't hurt you anymore," he told her. "You're not gonna die, kid, you're gonna live. I promise you that."

"So I'm trapped here." Her eyes dropped to the floor and her voice became passive. Stubborn as a mule, that one.

Slade tried to reason with her, "you're safe-"

"That isn't the same thing," Tash interrupted. "I can't leave. It's no different than them."

"I'm not locking you up, kid. If you can find the exit, you're free to go. You won't be better off out there. They _will_ find you."

"You can't do that," she pressed. Her voice was rising in panic as she felt the all-too-familiar sensation of dread building up in the pit of her stomach.

_She was trapped. Not again. Please. Never again._

"It's not fair."

"It's for your own good."

_"Fygnia!"_ she cried out, rising from her chair. "This is bullshit! You can't keep me here!"

Slade closed his eyes and took a deep, counting to ten before releasing it. He had to remain calm and objective. It would do neither of them any good if he got angry. The kid was young. She was scared and confused. He couldn't force her to see reason. She would simply have to learn.

Fixing his eye on the child, he spoke louder than he had been, the gentleness in his voice was gone now, so she knew that she was pushing her luck.

In a deadly calm, he said, "Watch it." He fixed a single finger on her. "You're skating on thin ice girl."

He saw the girl deflate slightly.

"You'll do well to mind your tongue. This is your only warning."

Her chest was still rising and falling heavily, but the defiant look disappeared. There was a hard look in the man's solitary eye. Something dangerous lay within. She felt the lick of fear touch her heart in a moment of uncontrollable panic. _She had gone too far._ He was going to hit her, just like everyone else. Nowhere was _safe. _Adults couldn't be trusted. None of them. They all lied.

He glanced meaningfully at her chair, and, after a moment's hesitation, she lowered herself back into her chair. Fear and worry and anger lingered in her eyes. She wasn't trying to hide anymore. Or maybe she was too distracted to remember to. She was unsure: conflicted at what had just occurred.

"Thank you," he told her. "Now, I can, and I will keep you here for as long as I deem necessary. My job is to keep you safe and that is _exactly_ what I will do."

Slade could see the confusion and distrust clear as day on her face.

"I'm not the enemy here. I am trying to protect you, Tasha." He said each word with deliberate emphasis. She had to understand.

"You don't know how far these people will go to find you, and you have no idea what they will do to you if they do."

She was so scared, so angry, so full of fear and anxiety and worry and resentment and dread all the time. It had made her cold. _Detached_.

"I won't let you go through that again." He watched her head drop in defeat, the anger dissipating completely. He watched as she pushed her emotions away, refusing to allow herself to feel anything. Just like the stone-cold killed she'd been trained to become.

Slade had lived a life like that, and he didn't want that for her. It was horrible and lonely. A life full of nothing but pain and rage… it wasn't living. But this kid, this small, little kid had closed herself off from her emotions, from everyone. She was angry at the world but had no one to take it out on. All of her emotions suppressed until she was asleep, where her subconscious took over and forced it all out. It was eating her up inside.

He refocused on Tasha, noting her posture growing evermore ridged. Her eyes alight with the fear of a dancing flame. She was staring blankly ahead, face void of any and all emotion.

Something was wrong.

"Tash?" he asked.

No response.

Slade leant forwards in his seat, "Tasha?"

Something was _terribly _wrong.

_"Shit!" _Slade swore as he stood up, realised what was happening. His chair clattering to the floor behind him. The same thing had happened just a few days ago. Whether it was a trance or a flashback, Slade didn't know. Nor did he care. All that he knew was that it was bad, and he needed to wake Tash up _right now._

Slade moved around the table and knelt beside the child, spinning her body around in the chair to face him best he could. She was stiff and motionless. Frozen.

"Tasha, I need you to listen to me kid. You're asleep. You need to wake up."

_"Dlya Rossii." _She was speaking Russian. _'For Russia,'_ she had said.

"You can wake up now, kid. You're safe."

_"Zhit' – eto znachit." _

"C'mon kid, snap out of it." He shook her arms, but it did nothing to rid her eyes of their emptiness. _'To live is to gain,'_ she had said. If anything, her voice only got louder. It was low and robotic and detached.

_"Umwewr' dlya slavy." _

Slade felt his blood freeze.

It all made sense. The fear, the pain, the rage, the detachment from reality.

_'To die is for glory.' _

All of it.

He'd heard those words before. The mantra that was chanted by the young of Russia during the wars. But it had a deeper meaning that anyone realised. It wasn't about the glory of Russia like the children had been told. No. It was something much more sinister. It was about control. Absolute submission and surrender of one's self.

_To live, to die, for Russia._

It was a pledge of allegiance. Forever binding those children to the slavery of the Soviet Union. They gave their freedom, their lives, and their souls, all to a cause they didn't understand.

Slade took a deep breath, forcing his worries and doubts away. She needed to know that she didn't belong to them. He stood up and, with his hands on her arms, leant down beside her ear and whispered to her.

"Lex…" he murmured. "They do not control you. This is not who you are. You don't owe your life to them, kiddo. You do not belong to those people. You are not their slave. Snap out of it, kiddo, c'mon. Please. Come back to me, kid."

She blinked her amber eyes up at him, confusion lacing her face.

_"Chto proizoshlo, what happened?"_

She had no memory of the mantra she'd just recited. No memory of what she had been forced to become.

"You're okay now. I promise."

Slade thought, or maybe hoped, that it was over until then the hyperventilating started. He tried to steady her, but that only made it worse. Her eyes darted was looking around the room in a wild panic. She couldn't thing. Couldn't see. Couldn't breathe.

Before Slade could do anything more, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her whole-body slumping forwards against him in unconsciousness. This couldn't be healthy. She couldn't keep passing out like that. The same thing had happened only _a few days ago._ Slade saw the same thing when he looked at her. Nothing. No sign of life in her eyes or fight in her blood. It was like she just snapped. And at that moment, everything she was just disappeared. Hollow, emotionless, hopeless.

She was empty. An empty child.

And when she came back all she knew was fear. Fear and confusion that left her so very lost.

How did she find the will to keep going? Where did that strength come from? It was more than will, more than determination. Something far more motivating. _Defiance_. The desire to prove someone wrong. The burning need to succeed when everyone else told you that you'd never amount to anything. That your life was over. That you'd always be nothing. She was fighting back because somewhere deep inside of her, there was a little girl who wasn't ready to give up yet.

Slade saw that child, he recognised it in himself. He made a promise. A promise to the little girl deep inside of her who was still fighting, not ready to throw her life away.

"I will not let you lose this battle. I won't let you leave this world behind. I will not give up on you, Tashie. I'm not abandoning you."

Slade collected the girl in his arms and carried her back to her room.

"I won't leave you."


	16. Chapter 14 - Silence

**Chapter 14 – Silence **

**11:52 Monday, 16th October 2017**

Slade slammed down his hands in frustration and shoved his keyboard against the wall. There was nothing on these people. Nothing! No matter where he looked there was never anything to bring him any closer to finding them.

On the desk in front of him, files too corrupted to read filled two of his monitors. It had been five days since the kid's last _episode_ (if you could call it that), and he had not yet found anything linking to her case. The longer he took, the more time they had to slip away – again. But there was nothing to go on. Hydra never left a trace.

And if he couldn't find them then he didn't have a hope of finding _her_!

Slade stood up abruptly, his chair scraping along the concrete floor, and began to pace. So many questions and never any answers. After all the times he'd failed them, why did this mistake have to haunt him? Why did Tash have to be a constant reminder of everything he'd lost… and everything he could never have.

Knitting his fingers together, he brought them up to rest on the back of his head as he paced the length of his room. Breathing in deeply over and over again until the immediate anger faded from his mind. That wasn't going to help her. Instead, he cast his mind to the past. The times before all this pain and torment, and the destruction of his family.

All those missed moments and forgotten memories… he'd lost so much time with them. And then because of his actions, his… _mistakes_ – mistakes that he would live to regret every second of every day – because of his failures, everything had gone to hell. So many lives lost, and families torn apart. So many good men had sacrificed their lives – all for nothing.

_And it was all his fault._

This attack on Tash's old foster family had been the only glimpse of activity from Hydra for months. And now that their trail had run cold, there was absolutely nothing to go on. The only clues he could possibly get now were from a traumatised eleven-year-old kid. Rephrase: an abused, tortured, traumatised, _amnesiac_ child.

Strength, defiance, and a burning desire to accomplish what others have said she could never do. That seemed to be all that there was to that kid sometimes. Since her _incident _last Wednesday, the kid hadn't even spoken to Slade. Just a small nod or shrug here and there. Tash almost completely kept to herself. She didn't come out to eat every meal, and Slade couldn't find it in himself to force her to; she seemed to prefer being alone and barely even ate when he made her to.

Tasha seemed content to read the days away. She had already gone through half the books in her room. He'd need to replace those soon.

Coming back to his desk, Slade leant one hand against the surface and reached for his mouse. He brought up the security display of the training room. If the kid wasn't in her room she'd be down there. He rested there for a while longer, simply watching the child cartwheel and flip across the room. Slade wasn't sure if she was angry, bored, or going stir crazy. Perhaps a bit of everything.

She didn't look physically upset, then again, the kid had a history with ignoring her feelings and pretending that everything was fine. The only time she showed any emotion was if it all became too much and just kind of exploded out of her, or after a nightmare. The kid got pretty shaken up after those. She didn't always wake up screaming. Some nights Slade would check in on her and find her passed out with tear tracks staining her face. More than half of the time she wasn't even in bed. He'd considered moving Tash to her bed in her sleep, but the possible backlash of that could turn out to be disastrous. He didn't need Tasha thinking she wasn't safe to sleep at night. So, he left it alone. He could only work on so many issues at a time.

Slade did have a sneaking suspicion that the kid wasn't even sleeping half the time. As her nightmares grew less and less, Tash became more and more reserved. On the occasions that he saw the kid leaving her room, she looked even more exhausted as the days passed. If not sleeping was her solution to her nightmare problem, then he was gonna have to teach that kid some new coping mechanisms.

Not killing herself would be a good start.

* * *

**12:07 Monday, 16th October 2017**

_Run, jump, twist, tuck, push, spin, flip, land, roll, repeat. _

That was the only thought going through Natasha's head.

_Don't think. Don't feel. Don't let the memories in. _She'd be okay, so long as they stayed _out._

_Run, jump, twist, tuck, push, spin, flip, land, roll, repeat. _

She couldn't let it take control. Not again.

_Don't think. Just keep moving._

_Run, jump, twist, tuck, push, spin, flip, land, roll, repeat. _

Run. Run away and never, ever stop.

She could feel the memories pushing through her defences. The little black box was cracking. Too many nights and too many dreams. There wasn't enough room.

_Run, jump, twist, tuck, push, spin, flip, land, roll, repeat. _

Focus on that. Just that. Nothing else.

_"Freeze!" _a voice echoed in her mind.

Nat lost her centre and came tumbling out of the flip, rolling to a stop on the ground.

_"Nobody move!"_

_"Moye Solntse, grab your sister and run," _the desperate voice of a woman was whispered in her ear.

Nat looked over her shoulder in panic, where were they? She pushed herself up off the floor, struggling to control her breathing.

The woman had called her _Moye Solntse_. It was Russian for 'my sunshine'. Why had she called her that? Who was she?

"Forget about it," she told herself. "Put it all in the box and walk away."

_"Begat'!" _a male voice screamed out.

_Begat'_. It meant to run. Why were they running?

"Walk away," she mumbled under her breath. "Just walk away."

Nat found herself fighting down the fear rising inside of her. Something terrible was about to happen. She could feel it.

She felt her arm grabbed by something, but when she turned to look, she was met only by air.

_"Hold on little ones," _said a voice, sickly sweet and full of lies.

_"You both have to come with us now." _There were men dressed in black surrounding them. Their faces were covered, and they had guns in their hands.

No, no, don't! It was a trap.

How did she know it was a trap? _What was going on? _

_"You don't have to be afraid of us, little ones. We're going to protect you. Help you. You don't have to be scared anymore. You serve a greater cause now." _

She could feel the panic and dread rising up inside of her, taking control of every fibre in her being. Every muscle in her body paralysed from fear.

_This was the beginning._

Somehow, she just knew. Nat knew that this was where it all began. The night she was taken. It was the night that she and her sister disappeared.

_Her sister._

She had a sister… before Ro.

_How?_

_"We only want to help you." _Nat could hear the malice intent in their words. Sinister plans hiding behind false smiles. The faceless men with shiny guns came closer and closer. They were trapped.

Nat knew what would happen next, and she wanted no part in it. She didn't want to remember. Not this. _Never_ this. Anything but this.

Nat collapsed to the floor, hands hitting – not the training floor – but cold, hard tiles.

The air around her grew warmer, humid. Her head was spinning in circles from pain and confusion. She could feel a bruise forming at the base of her skull.

"Get up, brat!"

She knew that voice. She heard it in her sleep. Those lonely months with that monster had made her hard. Resentful. Zane was a piece of filth who deserved to rot in Tartarus.

Nat felt something hard nudge her leg. She made to get up, yet her head was knocked into the ground by something solid whacking against her. She forced herself to lift her head off the ground and caught sight of her backpack lying next to her. That was going to leave a mark.

She pushed herself to her feet, grabbing her bag in her hand as she went. She listened to the heavy footsteps approaching her, steadying her breathing for the attack she knew would come. When she felt a rough hand grip her shoulder, she reacted on instinct. Knocking her elbow into his face, she heard the distinct crack of a broken nose, before ducking and rolling a safe distance away.

_"Fass mich nicht an!" _she growled through her teeth._ "Don't touch me!"_

"You ungrateful little bastard!" he exclaimed, holding his bleeding nose.

Nat was breathing heavily, staring at the man from her crouched position on the floor. Why had she done that? She knew that was going to lead to trouble. The adrenaline faded away and fear took over, freezing her in place. He was going to kill her.

"You're gonna pay for that." He stalked towards her and Nat was too afraid to move. Anything she did would only make it worse.

She should have known better.

He reached down and grabbed at her face and Natasha couldn't help but flinch from his touch. Nothing good ever happened when people touched her. Either they got hurt, or they were going to hurt her. There was no in-between.

"What was that?" he shouted in her face. "Afraid?" He clasped one large hand around her throat and forced her to stand. Her back slid up the wall, her legs fumbling to support her weight. The bag still clutched tightly in her grasp came up with her.

"You think you can run away from me?" Nat turned her face away from the man as best she could. His breath reeked of alcohol. Beer to be precise. It was foul.

Nat cast her eyes around the room and found seven empty bottled scattered around the place, as well as a half-drunk bottle of some orange liquid sitting by the couch.

He slowly removed his hand from her throat. But Nat knew that it was far from over. No, her punishment had only just begun.


	17. Chapter 15 - Satan's Spawn

**Chapter 15 – Satan's Spawn**

**16:30 Tuesday, 5th July 2016**

His hand lifted to the side, not a second later a stinging pain appeared on her cheek, forcing her head to face him once more.

The attack did nothing, however, to lessen her streak of rebellion. If anything, it just made her loathe Zane even more. Every heinous act he committed towards her was just another wave on anger and hate that fuelled her defiance against this monster.

Zane grabbed her by the earlobe and dragged her through the messy apartment. Nat knew that she could easily escape his grip, there were about twenty different attack plans formulating in her mind, but she forced herself to follow. _Don't, _she yelled in her mind.

Every time she fought back, it only made it worse.

Zane grabbed her cheeks harshly and turned her face towards his. When he spoke Nat could almost taste the alcohol in the air when she breathed. He was a pig.

"And if dinner isn't ready by six, there will be hell to pay." He lent closer until their faces were millimetres apart. And the harder Nat tried to pull away, the harder his grip on her face grew. In a fight, Nat knew she could easily take him down. But when it came to brute strength, she was far too small to fight him off. Not like this.

"You'll wish those cops had never of found you."

He pushed her into a small room and slammed the door.

Nat released a shuddering breath and slumped against the wall.

Why was it always her?

**12:26 Monday, 16th October 2017**

Natasha's hands slammed down on the ground hard, a jarring pain shooting up her dominant wrist.

_Where was she?_

Nat shifted her weight from her knees, resting back on her hunches as she scanned the area.

_Training room._

She hadn't left. It was just a dream.

_No, _she reminded herself. _Not a dream. A memory. _A terrible, terrible memory of her hellish life.

How long had she been out? Why had she remembered that, of all things?

But before that – before _Zane _– there had been something else. Another memory. A girl. A small girl with fiery red hair that matched her own. And they had run.

Her sister… _she had a sister_!

But they had been found. The bad people caught them. They had said that they were going to help them. Lies, lies – it was all _lies_! What was her name? The little girl, why couldn't she remember her sister's name? _Why?_

She slipped her knee beneath her and dropped her head to the floor, slamming her uninjured fist down in frustration.

It was so unfair. Why her sister? She had been younger than her, Nat was sure of it. She replayed the words of their parents over and over, not wanting to forget a single detail.

But the past was so confusing, none of it made sense. The more she tried to focus, the more jumbled the voices became, until all she could hear was incoherent sounds chaos and screaming. Yet, somewhere deep inside of her, Natasha was sure, more than ever, that the screams of those people, the man and woman who told her to run, it had been their last.

Nat walked over to the wall by the stairs and wandered off to the side and into the shadows. She had recently discovered the rafters descended all the way to the ground and filled the abandoned corner of the room.

Climbing was one thing Natasha didn't realise she enjoyed so much until she found herself seeking the training room for the perfectly distanced beams as a form of comfort and distraction. Bedroom windows to roof tops had been her speciality, but trees were just as relaxing, if not more. And since Nat hadn't seen a single window in the week and a half she'd been taken away, she assumed they were somewhere underground. Which also gave an explanation to the base's (was it a base?) structure, build, and layout. She'd spent more than her fair share in underground secret bases to not recognise one.

She flexed her left wrist experimentally, testing it to see how badly she'd banged it up. It only twinged a bit, so Nat figured that if she didn't think about it, it wouldn't bother her.

Reaching her hands upwards, Nat jumped off the ground, hands latching onto the cool metal, her feet dangling half a meter off the floor. In one fluid motion, Nat had pulled her body up and settled on the narrow beam.

Half-way to the roof, Nat became aware of the melody she had been absently humming as she ascended towards the roof. She bit her lip as she glanced over the edge to the room below: empty. With a small shrug, Nat switched from humming to softly singing the lyrics under her breath.

_"And that was when I ruled the world." _She dodged her head to the side and continued her winding path upwards. She was right, her wrist barely hurt at all.

_"It was a wicked and wild wind…"_ Nat craned her neck, looking directly above her to see how far the rafters went. But it was pitch black, and without an end in sight, Nat surged onwards, restarting her soft singing as she went.

_"Shattered windows and the sound of drums, people couldn't believe what I'd become."_

Nat crawled her way towards where she'd sat the first time she'd woken up. Watching the Shadow fight had been mesmerising. Terrifying – but still fascinating all the same. Scary because that alone had secured the fear inside of her that she was trapped with a man who could do anything to her, and she'd be powerless to stop him. But at the same time, she had been hypnotised by how fluid and perfect his fighting style had seemed. Every technique had flown perfectly into the next.

_"Revolutionaries wait, for my head on a silver plate."_

And Nat couldn't deny that the man knew what he was doing. Not only had she watched him for a seeming age, but he had been clear and precise in his instructions. She hadn't asked for help, and, thinking back to that day, Nat remembered losing control in front of him. She couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to lose control like that. He knew that she was weak.

_"Just a puppet on a lonely string…"_

There was something about Wilson though, something that made Nat uneasy. He had been scarily calm with unwavering patience. And the thought of someone who could hold that much back made her stomach churn in worry. The only person she'd know to have that ability had been a stone-cold killer. She wasn't ready to face that again.

Nat doubted she'd ever be ready.

_"Oh who would ever want to be king?"_

This man, this _Shadow, _was dangerous.

Nat found herself only slightly above where she had sat that day (or night, she had no clue), and allowed herself to lean against one of the larger, more solid beams, sliding to the base of the bar.

She gave herself this moment of respite, closing her eyes in utter exhaustion. As Nat felt herself slipping away, she forced her eyes open.

But they felt so _heavy_. Like something was pulling a curtain over her eyes. Donging her head against the steel frame behind her once, Nat gave up on trying to keep her eyes open – it was a fruitless struggle. One she did not have the energy nor the will or conviction to see through.

_"I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing, Roman Calvary choirs are singing."_

Nat knew she couldn't keep out the memory forever. She could feel it banging and pressing in on her skull. There were some things she just couldn't keep out.

_"Be my mirror, my swords and shield. My missionaries in a foreign field."_

Nat knocked her head against the metal behind her again, harder this time, hearing a dull _thud _vibrate against the beam.

_"For some reason I can't explain, I know Saint Peter won't call my name… Never an honest word… but that was when I ruled the world."_

For the first time, Natasha gave in to her struggles to keep the memories out. She just couldn't fight it any longer. Her head felt like it would split in two if she even tried.

_No, _she decided. _She wouldn't fight this anymore. _It was tiring and useless and a game she was losing – badly.

Natasha drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, completely surrendering to the darkness shrouding her mind.


	18. Chapter 16 - Stars and Miracles

**Chapter 16 – Stars and Miracles**

**18:04 Tuesday, 5th July 2016**

"I'm not angry," Zane told her over dinner. He was dangerously calm. A warning was going off in the back of her mind. He was never this calm. "But you know I have to find a way to punish you though."

Nat dared to lift her gaze, and despite the man's face showing careful thought, there was a dark glimmer in his eyes. His nose was slightly crooked from hours before and lightly bruised. The blood had been washed away but there were still a few droplets of blood splattered across the tiled floor.

She forced her mind not to imagine all the awful things he could be planning as punishment. She was sure nothing he came up with would be half as bad as the things she'd gone through before. The scars that covered her skin were plenty in numbers, variant in size and depth. She wouldn't go down without a fight. At least Nat hoped that's why she had the scars. Because the other possibilities were far more frightening.

Nat nodded along mutely, only partially aware of what Zane had said.

"I have my… responsibilities as a parent." Nat mentally cringed at his words but kept her face a blank canvas. What responsibilities? Since when had he ever acted like a parent? Since when did Zane care about raising her? About anything but the money he received for fostering her?

"How about you start with cleaning the kitchen? You can wash up the dishes." Nat's eyes narrowed suspiciously. That couldn't be all. He would never be that lenient with her. She knew better than to hope that would be all. She was smarter than that.

_Hope was for suckers._

What about all the beatings she'd received from him? All the days without food and the nights without sleep because she was too afraid to allow herself to be weak and vulnerable when he was near.

_People don't change. _

She'd learnt that the hard way. People never changed. People weren't kind or good. They just took what they wanted and didn't care how many people they hurt along the way.

He raised his glass and finished the coffee within. Zane's eyes went from the empty cup to Natasha. The glint of an evil smile cracked through his face.

_Bad. Bad. Dangerous. Warning. Warning. Warning!_ Her internal voice was screaming at her. Something was about to happen.

Zane stared her dead in the eye and released the glass from his grip. Nat saw it fall and shatter out of the corner of her eye. She didn't take her eyes off him. He was the enemy. He was dangerous. When she looked into his eyes, she saw nothing but a deep, cruel, evil. Like he had risen from the pits of hell just to torture her. She matched his stare. She would not back down. She would be strong.

For the second time that day, Zane felt a lick of fear touch his heart. If he had been sober, maybe he would have listened to that feeling. Inside that child's eyes, he saw nothing but pain and fury. They were a raging storm of fire and ice. It had never occurred to him that the yellow in her eyes weren't normal. But now he saw them – she was a freak!

"In fact, I want this whole place to be… spotless." Nat's eyes gravitated towards the broken mess on the floor. Why did it always turn out like this? Even as the pig of a man came closer, she didn't move her gaze. She felt his boot against her arm and the cold hard tiles as her head smashed against them. Nat followed through with the momentum of being pushed off the chair and rolled away until she found a wall to lean against.

"I didn't mean for the cops to find me." Nat didn't know why she had said that. Maybe she was hoping to disperse the man's anger. Maybe if he knew that she hadn't ratted him out then he'd be less violent.

"Well that was your fault, wasn't it?" He picked up a glass jar from the side counter and stalked towards her. "Wasn't it?" he questioned a second time, the anger in his voice rising.

Nat nodded, squeezing her eyes shut._ Just stay quiet and do what he says, _she reminded herself. _You can't fight this._

"It was my fault," she repeated. "I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough!" The jar in his hands was no longer there. It splintered and shattered upon impact, cutting into her skin.

Turning to face Zane, some of the larger pieces fell from her hair, breaking on the ground. With a shaky hand she felt under her eyes. Pulling back to look at her fingers smudged with crimson liquid. Nat pulled the shard of glass out from below her eye, throwing it to the side. It was covered in her blood.

"You could have blinded me!" she screeched. There were some things Nat knew that she couldn't heal from.

"Oh, shut up!" he growled at her, his words slurring together. "It's a scratch."

He came closer and closer and Nat struggled more than ever to keep herself from doing something she'd regret. She couldn't fight this.

Natasha let her head hang as he grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and made her stand. He wasn't strong enough to lift her up one handed, but Nat doubted that would stop him from trying.

"If you ever even think of running away again, we might just have to find out why Agent Henderson is so intent on hiding you? Hmm?" Nat felt her heart drop.

_No…_

_He wouldn't. _

The nightmares… they were all true. She couldn't go back – she wouldn't!

"Who are you running from Natty?" Nat tried to recoil from the hideous smell of his foul breath. He was too close. She couldn't breathe.

"I wonder how much they'd pay for you."

_Net_. Her panic-stricken thoughts allowed for nothing else. Nothing but dread.

_"Net, net, net, net – net!"_ The scream tore at her throat. The mirror exploded behind her and Nat dropped down to the ground, covering her ears with her bleeding hands. All the glass in the room trembled before shattering with a deafening _crack_.

Zane staggered back, his eyes wide with horror. She had blown up everything… how had she done that? This child, this… this _abomination_ was a monster.

"You – you freak!"

Nat heard his words, but she was too shocked and confused to let them bother her. What had she done? How had she done that?

"Freak… Satan spawn," he spat out, voice filled with disgust. "_Leave_…" he whispered.

"Get out." He rounded on her once more, grabbing her by the neck and shouting in her face. "Get out!"

Nat didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled to get away, dashing down the short hall and into her room. Her heart was racing so fast she could barely breathe. Stuffing everything she'd left behind from her previous escape attempt into a small duffle bag, Nat shouldered her bags and slipped her runners on. She risked a glance at her semi-open door; she didn't want to have to see that man again.

Biting her lip hesitantly, Nat snuck out into the hall and through Zane's open bedroom door. Under his bed she knew he kept a machete. She crouched down and felt for its cover, pulling out a 71-centimetre blade. A small kit wrapped in army green caught her eye. She unrolled it, a pocketknife, box of matches, and a torch sat neatly side by side. She rolled it up and shoved it into her bag as well.

Nat didn't feel even slightly guilty for stealing them, the man was a slimy pig who deserved to rot in hell. Nat stashed the stolen items in her duffle leaving the blade handle poking out of the bag. She quickly scanned the room before turning towards her escape route – the window.

Just for good measure, she kicked it in – she'd already shattered most of the glass in the apartment anyway, why not finish the job? Using the flannel tied at her waist to cover her hand from the glass. She reached up to grab the bar of the fire escape beside her window, shirt still in hand, she pulled herself and her belonging up onto the metal platform.

With a final glance back towards the obliterated apartment, Nat replaced the fabric around her waist, tying a double knot to secure it. She climbed down the outside of the staircase as if it were a scaffold. Dropping to the street below, she set off into the night.

Stepping over a fallen tree, Nat shrugged off her bags and carefully stepped closer to the creek's edge. She had to get this glass out of her hands before they got infected. She had pulled out the bigger ones but running water would get most of the miniscule shards that her fingers couldn't.

The water was cold and it felt good on her stinging hands. As the pain faded away, she began to scoop up water one hand at a time and clean the blood and glass off her arms. Despite the cold and the dark, Nat felt oddly at peace. It was sad how she felt safer in the unknown woods in the dead of night than she did in almost all of her foster homes.

Henderson didn't really seem to be striving for safe or kind, just whoever was stupid enough to take money in return for housing a child on the run from terrorists. 

Nat splashed her face a few times to clear her thoughts. She didn't need to be thinking about those things. Retreating into her mind, Nat imagined balling those thoughts together and throwing them inside the hell-inducing black box and slamming the door behind her.

Darkness gone – focus on survival.

Nat untied the band from her hair and let it fall over her head and into the flowing water below. She began shaking and raking her hands through it, determined to remove all of the glass. She twisted it all into a bun on top of her head and secured it with the two ties on her wrist. Glass gone, what was next? Food wasn't high on her priority list. She'd just eaten dinner and the human body could last at least three weeks without food, longer with training. So that wasn't going to be an issue. Water on the other hand, was. Three of four days without water and she'd be dead. But the mostly full water bottle in her bag and the freshwater creek she sat by would be more than sufficient. Basically, all she had to focus on was shelter.

Nat sucked in a long breath through her nose, blowing it out in a whistle as she observed her surroundings. It wasn't gonna rain on her; she'd be able to smell it if it were. It wasn't particularly warm, and she had a flannel and hoodie in case she got cold. She had everything she owned with her, a minimal amount of clothes and personal belongings was all she had managed to obtain. When they found her, Nat had owned practically nothing.

Nat shifted her bags to the base of an old tree, pulling herself up into the lower branches. She climbed higher and higher through the twisting branches until she could see through the canopy to the starry sky above. Situating herself on a relatively large branch, Nat lent her back against the trunk of the tree, lifting her gaze to the stars.

At least she didn't have to clean up that mess, she thought wearily. If only it could always be this peaceful. What she wouldn't give to roam up there, the freedom of the infinite universe. A life where she was free to run amongst the stars. Young, wild, and free. All things she'd never get to be.

She could never have an innocent, carefree childhood. She had been broken and tainted. Her view of the world was warped from trauma and pain. No. She didn't get to be a child. She had to lock the kid inside of her away. Deep in the confines of her mind. The only way to survive, was to forget who you used to be and become something more.

She couldn't run wild, she had to conform. Nat had to dress and speak and talk and act in perfect accordance with the mould society had placed around her. No, don't be brash, don't be rude. You owe these people your life. No, she had to be perfect, she couldn't run rogue. Always told to lay low and blend in. But how could she ever fit into a place where she would never belong?

Her life would never be her own. She would forever be trapped by her past. Held back by the people who controlled and commanded her life. She had been forever forced to live a life that was not her own. She was nothing. Nothing but a piece of property belonging to someone else. She had no value, no worth. And nothing worth saving. She was trapped. She'd never be free.

Maybe there was a reason she'd been given to the devil.

_Was this the life she deserved?_

Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it was the one she'd been given. And there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe if she was Satan's spawn, like Zane had _so affectionately_ called her, she'd have a home to run to. Nat wouldn't care if her father was the Devil himself, at least she'd belong somewhere, to someone. Maybe he'd accept all the freakishness that she came with. Maybe she'd be somebody to someone. For as long as she could remember, she had never had a place to call home. Then she wouldn't have to fumble through this darkness all alone.

"Is someone out there?" she whispered to the stars. "Cause I could really use a miracle right about now."


End file.
